


run away together (spend some time forever)

by mathgoat



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, Mild Drug Use (Marijuana), Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Original Character(s), Minor Richie Tozier/Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Has a Big Dick, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Underage Drinking, au where no one leaves and no one forgets because fuck that shit, did I mention slow burn, more angst than intended whoops, no beta we die like men, rights for switches!, stan is the best best friend ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 197,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathgoat/pseuds/mathgoat
Summary: "Don’t you sometimes think about fucking off outta here?”Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You mean out of Derry? Yeah, all the time.”Richie glanced between his fidgeting fingers and Eddie’s eyes. "I just wanna get the hell out of here and I’d miss you if you didn’t come with me so maybe you could come, like we can go together?”-But Richie. Eddie would go to the ends of the Earth for Richie. Having known each other for over a decade, their lives were already so intertwined and Eddie could not imagine the rest of his life continuing without Richie Tozier scribbling dicks on his school books and screaming Metallica lyrics at the top of his lungs and calling him in the middle of the night to tell him he’d broken his thirty-second pair of glasses. Yeah, he was planning on leaving Derry for college anyway, but if he got to do that with Richie, his best friend and perhaps favourite person in the whole world? Fuck yes, he was so in.“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it, Rich.”[Or: Over the course of several years, Richie and Eddie dance around each other, run away from home after high school, overcome some identity issues, and realise they've fallen in love along the way.]
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 286
Kudos: 400





	1. You heard me, Eds

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO and welcome to this monstrosity of a fic. I haven’t published a fic for a good five years but I’ve been writing a ton since then so hopefully I’m not too out of practice!
> 
> This fic is switching POV. I've planned the entire thing out with great detail and am trying to keep a few chapters ahead in case I get slow with writing or updating, and most chapters are half from Richie's pov and half from Eddie's. The first few chapters are pretty short compared to the rest of the fic (mostly because once I get into it, I can't stop rambling oops) so I'm warning you now that this'll be long af.
> 
> Please remind me and push me to keep going cause I get distracted and bored so easily even though I want to do this! Your comments mean the world to me <3
> 
> Title from Island In The Sun by Weezer (I tried SO hard to find a song from the boys' era but this is the title that spoke to me the most)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A prologue of sorts)
> 
> June 1992: Richie springs an idea on Eddie.

PART 1

“Let’s get out of here.”

Eddie looked over the top of the Superman comic he was reading, eyes squinting almost suspiciously at Richie across the hammock from him; Richie, whose own eyes were still glued to the magazine in his hands, so much so that Eddie wondered if he had actually spoken or if Eddie was finally losing his mind. His eyes flickered across the magazine cover for a few moments, willing it to move so he could make eye contact with the person behind it. Richie said nothing. So Eddie said nothing and went back to reading his comic.

It was a regular old Tuesday, about a few weeks into summer after their sophomore year of high school and a few weeks after Eddie’s seventeenth birthday. The Losers had gathered, as they always did, down in the clubhouse in the early afternoon to read and chat and listen to music and play stupid games like truth or dare and FMK, until one by one, people had to go home. Mike and Stan had already headed off; Mike had work to do on the farm before dinner and Stan had said something about his parents complaining he was never around. Beverly was currently getting ready to leave, and wherever Bev went, so did Ben, so Bill was packing up whatever shit the others had been doing while Richie and Eddie fought, as they always did, over who had spent how long in the hammock.

Fifteen minutes ago, Eddie had been sitting on the arm of the tattered two-seater couch Ben had brought, half listening to Bill and Bev discuss Def Leppard's new album and half reading the same double-spread of his comic for the third time at that point. He had glanced over to where Richie was sprawled our in the hammock, feet dangling off the edge because he _never stopped growing_. Eddie had checked his watch, seen that it had been nearly twenty minutes since Richie’s turn – how unusual it was for Eddie to forget the time – and promptly walked across the clubhouse to inform him that he needed to move his bony ass. After the spectacle they always had, the song and dance of yelling and poking and squirming, they had been settled in the hammock, legs all over each other and were reading for all of six minutes when Bev announced she was leaving. It was getting close to the time when Eddie should probably leave, too, because his mother basically threw a tantrum when he came home after sunset, even though he was seventeen fucking years old and able to look after himself. Beverly came over and ruffled Richie’s hair in lieu of a goodbye as she hiked her backpack over her shoulder.

“See ya later, alligators,” she said to Eddie with a wink. Eddie grinned, opened his mouth to reply, but Richie cut him off.

“After a while, crocodile!” Richie called back, wiggling his eyebrows at Eddie.

Eddie’s jaw dropped slightly, glaring at him. “Fuck you, Richard, you know that’s my thing.”

“Aw, Spagheds, you know it gets me all hot and bothered when you use my real name. What, are you jealous of what you heard last night when me and your mom—”

“Beep beep, dickhead.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie turned to Ben and Bev, waving them out with a goodbye, then turned back to Richie. He was already engrossed in his magazine again, so Eddie picked up his comic and looked down at the page for the fourth time, still not really paying attention to what he was reading. God, he was so distracted; is this what it felt like inside Richie’s head? Eddie might have thrown himself in front of the school bus if he had to deal with this shit every day.

Bill watched Ben and Bev climb up the ladder and disappear out of sight, still staring after them for a few seconds even after the hatch closed, before returning to packing up the cassette tapes that were scattered on the floor. Somehow, it was usually Stan and/or Bill who stayed the latest with Richie and Eddie, as if they were reliving their days as young teens when the Losers’ Club had consisted of only the four of them, playing pranks on each other and spending time in the arcade for hours on end. Not that Eddie didn’t love having Beverly, Ben and Mike around, but sometimes nostalgia clouded his mind and he _missed_ being a kid.

Well, he didn’t miss everything about it.

Of course, _that_ summer was constantly at the back of everyone’s minds, suppressed memories occasionally making their way to the surface in the form of nightmares; no one wanted to talk about it or even think about it, and they had carried on with their teenage lives as best as they could after suffering such trauma. What mattered, though, was that no one else was ever going to have to deal with that monster ever again – the Losers had made sure of it. After so many years, they’d started to forget or block it out or something, and after Eddie’s arm had healed, the only real reminder of that summer’s events even happening were the scars on their hands. Eddie had caught Stan staring at his palm for several minutes before, sometimes his lip trembling, sometimes his jaw clenched, but then, as if someone snapped their fingers in front of his face, he’d jolt out of it and continue with whatever was going on around him. It didn’t surprise Eddie that Stan was the one still heavily affected by those memories.

After that summer, instead of pushing each other away and getting lost in their own heads, their group had grown tighter, closer, spending more time together than ever. The seven of them were always strewn across the clubhouse floor or the Denbrough living room, splashing around at the quarry or huddled up around Bev’s aunt’s fireplace or taking up half of the back row at the Aladdin in an R-rated movie they’d snuck in to see. More recently, they’d begun to split off into smaller groups, and part of Eddie worried that they’d eventually drift apart, but today, being in the clubhouse that Ben built, surrounded by all his friends, Eddie had never been more sure that they’d all be friends for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t imagine a world without Bill’s leadership, Bev’s strength, Mike’s wisdom, Ben’s kind heart, Stan’s sarcasm, Richie’s humour. As horrible as the summer of eighty-nine was, it was what brought them all together, and Eddie wouldn’t trade it for anything, even taking the broken arm and his mother’s wrath all over again if it meant he got to keep these amazing people by his side.

Once his nightmares subsided, the main thing that continued to suffer in Eddie’s life, upon learning that his medication was all bullshit, was his relationship with his mother. She had tried to tighten the leash, tried to ground him more often over nothing, tried to convince him that not all of his medicine was fake. Eddie had tried so hard not to listen, but she was his _mom_ and she loved him, or so she said. He supposed she did, in her own twisted way, and as long as he lived with her, he had to deal with it. He had somehow since fallen back into listening to the shit Sonia Kaspbrak spouted, letting her control his life, but less often, and with more scepticism and less subservient, blind faith. He learned what defiance meant, which ultimately lead to him spending more time with the people who actually cared about him, despite what she continued to tell him about “dirty boys and girls like _that_ ”. Honestly, Eddie was surprised he hadn’t cracked it again and run away from home. Not that’d he’d have anywhere to really go. Maybe Bill or Stan’s family would be okay with him staying for a few nights.

So, when Richie mumbled something about leaving, Eddie kind of assumed he was talking about heading off home as well, since it was nearly 5pm and Richie also knew Eddie’s mother would complain if he was out too much longer. That was why it was so strange that Richie didn’t say anything else or respond to Eddie’s looks of confusion. Bill was still on the other side of the clubhouse, now organising their music collection in what appeared to be alphabetical order. The corner of Eddie’s lips curved upwards in amusement; it seemed like such a Stan thing to do. He turned back to Richie.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Eddie asked, actually putting The Death of Superman down this time.

Richie still didn’t move, so Eddie poked him with his foot, only reaching his shoulder now because _fuck,_ the boy was so tall. In the last few years, they’d all shot up, Richie and Mike especially, and their shoulders started filling out. Despite being the oldest in their group – because even at four years old his mom wouldn’t let him go to kindergarten and held him back another year – Eddie was only slightly taller than Bev and not quite as tall as Bill. But Richie was fucking tall – he and Mike were both nearing six feet. Now, Eddie could no longer smack his friend in the face with his socked foot because Richie’s scrawny legs had to fit _somewhere_ in the hammock and to avoid them both getting kicked in the crotch when Eddie inevitably squirmed his way in, it meant sitting slightly further apart. Eddie tapped his foot against Richie’s shoulder a second time, provoking him to finally peer over the top of his magazine.

“You heard me, Eds,” was all he said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. He honestly had no clue what went through Richie’s head before he opened his mouth. Nothing, he suspected.

“Alright, let’s pretend I didn’t, then. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Bill cleared his throat, apparently done with the cassettes. He was now standing facing the hammock, hands in his pockets.

“I might head home, t-t-too,” he said, eyes darting between Eddie and Richie, as if trying to imply something.

Usually, Richie and Eddie were the last to leave the clubhouse; Richie because his parents couldn’t have cared less where their son was or what time he came home, and Eddie because he wasn’t about to leave Richie here alone, in the damp and dusty clubhouse all by himself as the sun went down, casting eerie shadows across the trees outside when they inevitably exited, stomachs growling like they hadn’t just downed several bags of potato chips and multiple cans of soda each. And also because he just wanted to spend time with his best friend, even if it meant an extra long scolding when he returned home.

And when the two of them weren’t the last to leave, they usually left together anyway, like they were a package deal. As soon as Eddie decided he’d had enough of the filth around him, or he wasn’t feeling up to another screaming match with his mother, Richie was right there beside him, offering to ride home with him, making some dumbass joke about seeing Eddie’s mother when he dropped him home. Eddie always rolled his eyes and told Richie to shut the fuck up about his mom already.

“See you later, Billy Boy,” Richie said, saluting. “Oh, we were gonna go to the Aladdin tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, the third Alien f-film.” Bill locked eyes with Eddie, who didn’t remember them talking about a movie.

Richie beamed. “Sweet! Did you tell Stan The Man?”

Bill nodded, pointedly looking at Eddie again and almost glaring at Richie.

“Oh yeah, did you wanna come, Eds?” Richie finally got the hint. What a prick. “I figured your delicate soul couldn’t handle another horror movie after you screamed at Aliens so I didn’t ask you, but don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand and protect you when the chest bursters do their chest bursting.”

Eddie slapped Richie’s outstretched hand away, folding his arms across his chest. “Fuck you, asshole. Yes, I’ll come, I’ll talk to my mom about it in the morning.”

After the hatch closed behind Bill, Richie finally put down his damn magazine.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said again, actually looking at Eddie this time.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time, dipshit,” Eddie fired back, snatching the magazine from Richie and throwing it on the floor beside them. He squirmed, trying to sit up properly. “Do you wanna go home?”

Richie stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was softer than before and gentler than Eddie was used to, and Eddie was immediately more attentive. This Richie, soft Richie, seemed to be reserved for him – it was as if he had been waiting for Bill to finally leave before repeating himself because whatever he had to say was too serious to be heard coming out of his fucking potty mouth by anyone who wasn’t Eddie. Eddie still didn’t know what made him so damn special.

“Nah, never do, Eds,” Richie replied, bringing his hand down on Eddie’s ankle with a light slap. “No, I mean, we… Don’t you sometimes think about, you know, fucking off outta here?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I’m not… You mean out of Derry? Yeah, all the time.” He scoffed, foot twitching under Richie’s hand. “Every time my mom tries to guilt me into taking those goddamn pills again, I wanna get out of here. Every time I think about Bowers getting out of jail and coming to kick my ass, I want to leave this freaking town.” Eddie shrugged, unsure what Richie was getting at, exactly.

Richie cocked his head slightly, teeth coming to rest gently against his front lip. His eyes dropped from Eddie’s gaze, hands coming together to fidget on his lap, and Eddie watched him curiously, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Quiet Richie was usually a tell-tale sign that something was up, but since no one else was around, Eddie didn’t have the heart to push his buttons or crack a joke about it, so he waited, giving his best friend all the time he needed.

After a few moments, Richie sighed. “Yeah,” was all he said.

Okay, now Eddie was getting concerned. Taking-his-time-to-speak Richie was one thing, but obviously-bottling-it-up Richie was someone Eddie had only seen a handful of times in all the years they’d known each other. Most recently, a few months ago, once their nightly ritual of Richie sneaking into Eddie’s bedroom had slowed down to around once a week, Richie had tumbled through the window at midnight, as he always did. But then he walked over to the bed where Eddie was lying and dramatically threw himself on top of him, clutching at his back and sobbing quietly into the crook of his neck, body trembling in a way that caused Eddie’s stomach to jump into his throat and squeeze back instinctively, holding and rubbing and soothing his friend for reasons he didn’t fully understand. Eddie knew Richie’s parents could be neglectful assholes sometimes, but he’d never seen Richie react like this to any of their comments or fights before. Richie cried himself to sleep that night, which had never happened around Eddie before – Eddie didn’t think Richie had even cried in front of the other Losers at all – and neither of them said anything about it in the morning when he left. Eddie didn’t push then, and he wasn’t about to push now.

He swallowed, apparently audibly enough for Richie’s eyes to flicker back up to his, and then Richie shrugged, glancing between his fidgeting fingers and Eddie’s eyes, like he couldn’t make up his mind about continuing the conversation. Eddie’s heart rate picked up slightly, starting to get a little nervous. Maybe he should push, he considered selfishly, even if it was just to stop himself worrying.

“Why do you ask, Rich?” He paused for a moment. “I… You know, we fuck around a lot but I’m always gonna listen if you have something important to say.”

“I dunno, I just think about it sometimes,” Richie said quietly. Everything about this situation was throwing Eddie for a loop. He dropped his comic book on top of the magazine on the floor and sat up, reaching over and placing a hand on top of Richie’s, threading his own fingers between the fidgeting ones. It was something they’d been doing a lot recently, touching and holding just that bit longer than before, looking at each other with only the intention to look, smiling when the other caught them looking. Eddie had started to feel like his heart was in a perpetual state of _too tight_ and _so nervous_ when it was just _Richie_ , for fuck’s sake, and he had no idea why his stupid chest reacted in such a way. Right now, though, Richie seemed like he needed prompting.

“Okay, so think out loud to me then,” Eddie suggested.

“I just... I know how much you want to get away from your mom, and as much as I’d miss her sweet lovin’, I’m not the biggest fan of my parents either and I just thought, cause we’re best friends and all and the others don’t seem to hate this place so much anymore since Bev’s aunt moved here for her and we’re all on good terms now after her and Bill’s break up and, fuck, Eds, I don’t know what I’m saying? I just wanna get the hell out of here as soon as I can and I think… I mean, I _know_ I’d miss you if you didn’t come with me so maybe you could come with me, like we could go together?” It didn’t sound like a question until the last word, but Eddie was having trouble processing it all because, as if a dam had broken in Richie’s brain, his fucking blabber mouth back at it with run-on sentences that Eddie now had to decipher quickly so his friend didn’t retreat into whatever shell he’d just come out of a moment ago.

“I’m gonna ignore your crack at my mom and the fact that you can’t be serious for one goddamn second,” Eddie began, unable to help the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “You are being serious, right? Like, you’ve really thought about running away? _With me_?” Eddie still couldn’t wrap his head around it as the words came out of his own mouth.

“Well, yeah, Eds. Who else would I run away with? Fucking Stanley? That boy would sew my mouth shut in the first hour being stuck in a car with me.” Richie’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit. I’m gonna have to get a car. I’m gonna have to get a job to get a car. Man, I haven’t thought this through, have I? I just got so excited about getting out of this town with my little Spaghetti Man that all reasonable thoughts flew outta my head.”

Eddie pursed his lips, wracking his brain to recall his trip to the pharmacy yesterday. “I think Domino’s Pizza is hiring,” he said, almost shocking himself for considering this whole ordeal. “I saw some sign up on the window.”

Richie’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh, free pizza, here I come! I could save my entire pay check and just snack constantly on toppings and shit and never have to buy food again. If I work every weekend and some school nights, I could save enough for a piece of shit car in a few months, right? I could get Mike to help me fix it up and then keep working until we graduate and then I’ll have enough for a few months’ rent and the insurance thing for an apartment and we can fucking ride off into the sunset together, Eds.”

Eddie blinked, eyes softening with each word that came out of Richie’s mouth. His chest felt heavy, like it was full, about it burst open with the adoration he felt for his best friend. “It’s called a bond, Richie,” he supplied.

“A bond!” Richie’s hands flew out either side. “We’d have a bond and a place together and if we wait until we graduate, you can go to a real fucking college, not Maine Community bullshit that your mom always yaps on about. We could blast Whitney Houston from the stereo with no one to tell us to shut the fuck up! Eddie! We could be _free.”_

Their hands found each other, Richie squeezing tightly. They were both grinning so widely that Eddie’s cheeks started to hurt. It was crazy. It was really fucking crazy. But it was also the best thing Eddie had heard in a long, long time. _Free_. He could be himself, out of his mother’s grasp, no one breathing down his throat every two seconds to not do this and not say that. He could go to a good college and even if he didn’t get in to a school he wanted, a community college in another state was definitely a step up from the shithole they were currently in. If Richie and he got into the same school, they could even live on campus and not have to worry about finding a place. Shit, it all sounded too good to be true. He wasn’t sure if they would be able to pull it off, but fuck, if they didn’t try, Eddie was sure he would regret it for the rest of his life. There was no way in hell he was ever staying in Derry after he graduated, but if his mom knew what college he was going to, she’d be calling him every day and demanding he come home for every holiday and would constantly be trying to guilt trip him into coming back to visit her. He’d rather die than live with her.

But Richie. _Richie_. Eddie would go to the ends of the Earth for his best friend. Now in their late teenage years, having known each other for over a decade and having been basically joined at the hip for the last few years, their lives were already so intertwined and Eddie could not imagine the rest of his life continuing without Richie Tozier scribbling dicks on his school books and screaming Metallica lyrics at the top of his lungs and calling him in the middle of the night to tell him he’d broken his thirty-second pair of glasses. Yeah, he was planning on leaving Derry for college anyway, but if he got to do that _with Richie_ , his best friend and perhaps favourite person in the whole world? Fuck yes, he was so in.

They had two years. Eddie would be eighteen before senior year even started and Richie’s birthday was in March, so they’d stay a few extra months until graduation, and then they’d fuck off out of here. Eddie breathed in shakily, squeezed Richie’s hand back.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it, Rich.”


	2. Totally old and non-existent crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 1992. Eddie and Richie get introspective. The plan begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the first chapter! I was smiling at my phone like an idiot every time I got a notification of a new comment. You guys all made my day <333\. This chapter is a bit of a filler/background info stuff. Lotta internal monologue from both boys, to kind of give you an idea of where they stand with each other and such. Enjoy!!

It turned out to be a whole lot harder than they thought. Of course, they didn’t expect Richie getting a job and a car and Eddie scheming to ditch his mother and running away from their home town and their friends and their life to be _easy_. But it was really fucking hard. And they weren’t prepared at all.

Richie did get the job at the pizza place without too much of a hassle, but was earning less than five dollars an hour, which to Eddie seemed ridiculous, because there was no way anyone would be able to live off that kind of wage. To try to compensate for that, Richie was picking up extra shifts every single week, which then meant Eddie and the rest of their friends weren’t seeing him around as much. Eddie wasn’t sure if it affected the other Losers as much as it seemed to affect him. He wasn’t even entirely sure _why_ he seemed so bothered by it all of a sudden. They’d gone an entire week without seeing each other before when Eddie’s mother took him to Bangor to see his aunt the other year. Although, now that he thought about it, Richie had been waiting outside the Kaspbrak residence the day Eddie got back and had come barrelling into him, knocking him over with the force of his hug, gushing about how _cute, cute, cute_ Eddie was and how much he’d missed squeezing his cheeks. Eddie smiled fondly at the memory, ignoring the blush that crept up his cheeks now.

Apart from Bill, who’d basically adopted him when they met in in first grade, Richie had always been Eddie’s best friend. After getting over his irrational fear of contracting a disease from the incessant dirt underneath Richie’s fingernails, and after he learned that rolling with his jokes and spitting fire right back at him was much easier than getting him to shut up – and a lot more enjoyable, too – seven-year-old Eddie hadn’t minded his company that much. Eleven-year-old Eddie, who finally learned what Richie was actually talking about when he referred to ‘fucking’ all the time, had squealed at the thought of two people being so close to each other; why, they could swap all sorts of nasty infections. It was then that eleven-year-old Eddie decided he was never going to be fucking anybody. Ever.

Fifteen-year-old Eddie had slightly different ideas.

While Bill and Ben had been making googly-eyes at Beverly for all of _that_ summer, Eddie honestly couldn’t see the appeal of romance and sex. He’d even caught Richie staring at her a few times, so he tried, he really did. He looked at her hair, because no one could doubt it was a beautiful part of her, so soft and vibrant. He looked at her face, her skin, noticed she had freckles like him, noticed her kind eyes that would snap into an icy glare in an instant if anyone so much as insulted her friends. He even brought himself to look lower, at the rest of her body. She was all smooth and curves and Eddie glanced at her chest once, when they were splashing around in the quarry one morning, but he really, _really_ didn’t see the appeal. Sure, Bev was gorgeous, and he enjoyed spending time with her. She was quick-witted, intelligent in ways that didn’t matter in school, and was always nice to every single one of them, had been the one encouraging them to listen to Ben and help Mike. Beverly was a great friend. But that was all.

Whatever, Eddie had supposed he’d get there eventually, with the whole girl thing.

But then he started to realise why he wasn’t getting the whole girl thing. Because it was a _girl_ thing.

One night two years ago, no night out of the ordinary, Richie had been throwing pebbles at Eddie’s bedroom window until he opened up and let him in. He had tumbled into the room, glasses falling off his face, and they had both knelt down to pick them up immediately. Richie’s hand landed on top of Eddie’s, like they were straight out of a fucking rom-com, and Eddie shrieked at the contact, yanking his hand back as if he’d been burned by the touch.

“Jesus, Eds,” Richie had sniggered, “If I’d known you’d scream for me just by touching your hand, I’d have started doing it a long time ago.”

Eddie’s face flushed harder at this memory.

While Beverly’s appearance was pleasant to Eddie’s eyes, _Richie’s_ was stunning. The boy still hadn’t quite grown into himself yet, all gangly limbs and knobbly joints, long fingers and huge fucking feet, and wild, unruly hair that Eddie had tried, on multiple occasions, to get a comb through. But it was Richie, so it was endearing, so Eddie loved it. But it was so fucking confusing sometimes.

Like when his front teeth settled on his bottom lip during a rare moment when his mouth was shut, or how he adjusted his glasses every time he was nervous or sometimes angry, or how he had been letting his hair grow out in the past few years, trimming it in the summer after complaining about his neck being sweaty, but inevitably letting it grow out again over the next few months, all curly and untamed and so very Richie. Eddie wanted to run his hands through it, and he did, sometimes, during movie nights and sleepovers at Bill’s, with Richie’s head in Eddie’s lap, fingers carding through those messy curls because Richie had clearly never heard of a hairbrush in his life. That hair, when Richie had been biking around in the summer, sweat gleaming on his forehead, or after swimming in the quarry, when he would drop down next to Eddie and shake his head like a fucking dog, and yet all Eddie wanted to do was tangle his fingers in those damp, black locks and yank Richie’s head back and attach his teeth to his throat and _wow_ , okay, maybe he did see the appeal of fucking after all.

Sure, Richie had inadvertently helped Eddie realise that he didn’t see girls the same way everyone else seemed to, but that didn’t mean he had to fucking pine for him when he was at work for four days in a row. He didn’t even like Richie like that. He honestly didn’t. He just thought he was pretty, that was all. Perfectly normal thing to think about one’s best friend who was also a boy. Besides, Eddie thought most of his friends were rather pretty. Bill had broad shoulders and pink lips and Stan had gorgeous hair and it was totally not weird at all to be thinking about his friends like this. He didn’t dwell on it often, but he knew the reason he saw Richie differently to the rest of their friends was simply because they were so close. They were basically inseparable. He loved Richie, but not like _that_. They were just best friends. Best friends who wanted to spend every waking moment together, be it play fighting in the hammock at the clubhouse or video game fighting in the arcade or stealing each other’s popcorn at the movies or whatever the fuck they felt like doing when Richie showed up at his house on any given day. Just because Eddie liked boys, didn’t mean he liked any of his friends.

It had taken him a hell of a long time to come to terms with it. Most of his life, in fact. And, if he were being completely honest with himself, he still hadn’t fully accepted it and didn’t know if he would ever be able to talk about it to anyone else or even say the words out loud to himself. Obviously, he never saw girls in that way, he knew that much once they got to middle school, but for a while he was absolutely sure it was just because he was a late bloomer. He was shorter and smaller than the rest of the guys despite being older, he thought maybe he just needed an extra few years to work the girl thing out with himself. It certainly didn’t help that Sonia was always going on about the kinds of dirty men who were with other men whenever someone on television talked about Elton John or Stephen Fry, making Eddie recoil back into his shell over and over again, making him feel more dirty and more sick than any physical illness she’d ever convinced him he’d had.

Even as a child himself, Eddie had thought boys who kissed boys were sick, because that’s what his mother had told him and she was always right and she loved him and she knew what was best for him. The first time Eddie thought about kissing another boy, he had felt like his insides were being curled and squeezed and he ended up vomiting in the school bathroom after running out of class. The first time he thought about tugging Richie’s hair and biting his throat at the quarry, Eddie had quickly made up an excuse to leave immediately because his heart was beating faster than usual and that meant he was having an asthma attack and his stomach was churning like he was going to throw up again but also like he was going to melt into the ground if he wasn’t careful.

Eddie didn’t understand it at all. Eddie took _years_ to understand it.

To this day, he still hadn’t said the word ‘gay’ out loud, not even to himself. The first time he’d thought it, while staring in the mirror, brushing his teeth for the third time that day, he had gagged on his toothbrush and his eyes started watering, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he choked or because of his thoughts that he was crying.

Even now, when he knew he liked boys and he didn’t like girls and he wanted to kiss boys and maybe one day even fuck boys, Eddie sometimes felt the clenching of his stomach or the air getting caught in his throat when he thought about it, because he had been conditioned for so many years to associate being gay with being sick. It was like his inhaler, which he knew he didn’t need, but sometimes still reached for in times of stress because that’s what he’d always done. Eddie had always been told that people who were gay needed to be fixed, and sometimes he used to wonder if there were any truth in that statement, wondered if maybe his mom was right. Maybe he was still sick. Maybe he didn’t have asthma but he did need to be fixed mentally and emotionally instead. Eddie had cried himself to sleep so many nights in the past, thinking about what Sonia would do if she found out that he’d thought about kissing Bill or Richie, if she’d kick him out or send him away for conversion therapy or just slap him.

After all those years, after crying over himself and his thoughts so many times, after fighting with his feelings for his friend, Eddie had finally, _finally_ figured out that no, he wasn’t sick or broken, and Sonia Kaspbrak could just go fuck herself.

Today, Eddie had to go to the pharmacy to pick up his mother’s medication, which meant he would be walking past Domino’s. Richie would probably be busy serving customers and not paying any attention to random people walking past the shop window and inconspicuously staring in. Eddie was absolutely not disappointed to see no sign of Richie at the front of the store, which probably meant he was taking phone orders in the back. And he was absolutely not tempted to phone in just to hear his friend’s voice. It’s not like he had a crush or anything.

When he got to the pharmacy, Eddie spotted a familiar redhead at the back counter.

“Hey, Bev,” he said as he approached her from behind.

“Hey, Shortstack,” she grinned, running a hand through his hair with a ruffle. Eddie swatted her hand away.

“Oh my god, you’ve been spending too much time with Richie, Beverly. Don’t make me hate you, too,” he threatened, but couldn’t help the smirk that started to form on his lips.

Bev scoffed. “Nonsense, you could never hate me. Or Richie for that matter.” She side-eyed him, raising her eyebrows like she knew something he didn’t.

Eddie was about to ask her what the fuck that was supposed to mean, when the pharmacist came over and handed her a box of medication.

“There you go, Miss Marsh. Ah, Mr Kaspbrak! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Eddie painted on a smile as he spoke to the pharmacist, ignoring Bev’s amused glances from where she stood off to the side. Once he had the bottles for his mother, the two of them paid for their things and left the drugstore.

“Got any plans for the rest of the day?” Bev asked him and Eddie shook his head immediately. He rolled his eyes internally, feeling a little pathetic for doing absolutely nothing when Richie wasn’t around. He knew he could just as easily call Bill or Mike and go watch a movie or check out whatever new comics were at the bookstore or literally anything except what he had been doing the past two and a half weeks, which was fuck all.

Okay, he’d gone to the movies to see Alien 3 with Bill, Richie and Stan like he said (and, contrary to what Richie had said that day in the hammock, Eddie did not scream or cry or cover his eyes – he simply gagged every time a face-hugger jumped at someone). After the film, Richie and Stan had left immediately when Richie told them he wanted to get a job, because Stan was the smartest of them all and wanted to help Richie write his resume. Eddie stayed, happy to hang out with Bill, and it was _nice_ to be calm and chat about the movie without fucking Richie cracking jokes and poking his side every five seconds. He should probably call Bill and organise another time to hang out, because Eddie always enjoyed spending time with his oldest friend, even if they didn’t do it that much. It was pretty much the only time Eddie could sit in silence and be comfortable, because being around his mother was agitating and being around Richie was equal parts infuriating and exciting. Bill was sweet and relaxing to be around. Eddie definitely needed to spend more one-on-one time with him, or maybe just with any of his friends without the loud-mouthed boy with glasses.

Beverly glanced at him curiously, probably at his silence, but if she wondered anything, she didn’t say. “Ben asked me to come hang out with him and Stan at the library later, if you wanted to come?” she offered. “I know it’s not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon, but it’d sure beat whatever it is you do at home by yourself. Better than moping around, pining over Richie.”

Eddie whipped around to face her. “I am _not_ pining.”

She held up her hands in defence, but the smirk on her lips betrayed her. “Whatever you say, kiddo. The offer still stands, anyhow.”

Eddie did roll his eyes this time.

They did end up at the library. Eddie and Bev parted ways to return to their respective houses, drop off their pharmacy purchases and grab their bikes. Stan and Ben were already there, sitting next to each other at a large table, both engrossed in books, and neither looked up when Beverly and Eddie sat down across from them. Eddie’s eyes darted over the book covers; Ben was reading a nonfiction book about the First World War, and Stan, surprise surprise, was reading A Guide to Australian Birds. What nerds.

When Bev pulled a magazine off the nearest shelf and propped her feet up on the edge of the table, Eddie decided to check the brand new digital library catalogue for books on New York. He recalled Richie once mentioning something about drama or theatre or something performing related, and Eddie had heard good things about the academia at NYU, so it seemed like a good place for them to consider moving to in a few years. Eddie’s heart thumped loudly in his ears at the thought of what they planned to do, still not fully believing it was possible. Eventually, he found a couple of guides and books about colleges and things to do, then he sat back down across from Stan to read.

Ben and Beverly had scooted over to chat quietly about Bev’s magazine, but Stan still didn’t acknowledge his friends’ presence, which, while seemed pretty typical for Stan, especially when he was engrossed in a book, but it still made Eddie feel the tiniest bit annoyed. He was a sucker for attention, what could he say? Richie would have spoken to him if he were there instead of Stan.

He made a few mental notes about New York City: Queens seemed like a decent neighbourhood, the last few years had seen a rather dramatic economic downfall but things were starting to get better again, but not so much better that it would be unaffordable for them. Maybe. He’d definitely want to talk to Richie about this sooner rather than later. They needed to start considering their options if they were really going to do this. Fuck, were they really going to do this? Were they really going to up and leave all their friends without a word? Eddie had no qualms leaving his mother, and he was sure Richie felt the same about his own parents, but their _friends_?

Eddie peered over the top of his book and looked at Stan. His hair was curlier than Richie’s, softer and cleaner, too – at least _someone_ else in their group had decent hygiene practices. His eyes moved slowly over the pages, as if he were savouring every word he read about these animals he loved so much. Eddie tilted his head to look at Bev and Ben, now sitting at the end of the table, squished into each other’s sides as they gushed over something funny in the magazine, and Eddie’s heart ached at the thought of leaving them all behind with no explanation. Maybe he should also talk to Richie about telling them, if not straight away, then right before they leave. He wasn’t sure if Richie could be trusted to keep such a big secret for literal years. Eddie just wanted to say goodbye, because who knew how long it’d be before they all saw each other again.

He would have to check these books out of the library so Richie could have a read through as well. Richie didn’t seem to have any sort of plan when he’d sprung the idea on Eddie initially, so it was as good a starting point as any. It was Thursday, Eddie suddenly remembered, heart fluttering at the thought of _finally_ getting to see his best friend again. Four days was a long time.

* * *

Richie clocked out and all but ran out the back of the pizza store to grab his bike, hurrying home like his life depended on it. It was after 8pm, so his father would shortly be returning home as well, his mother would have already retired to her room, and Richie needed to pack an overnight bag with extra snacks and fuck off out of there before Wentworth arrived. His parents may not have paid any attention to where he was and what he was doing, but if they actually saw him sneaking out, it’d be a whole different story.

It had been nearly five days since he’d seen his friends and Richie was this close to losing his mind. Every week on Thursday nights for probably the past six months, he’d go over to Eddie’s after their parents went to bed, climbed up to the second-floor window and showered his friend with affection and fun. Today he was bringing another Richie Tozier speciality – food, food, food. Sonia Kaspbrak was like a fucking prison guard when it came to her food sometimes, and Eddie was a massive sweet tooth, had mentioned something about craving chocolate last weekend at the group’s sleepover at Bill’s place, and boy, did Richie have the fix for him.

He dismounted his bike when he got home, discarded it on the front lawn and reached for the door handle, knowing it would be unlocked because fuck knows his mother wasn’t a responsible adult. He took the stairs two at a time, the soles of his feet screeching at him after standing around for six hours already today, but he ignored it, grabbing his backpack and emptying the contents of the main pocket onto his bedroom floor; it blended right in with the other mess lying around. He bounded back downstairs and opened the cupboard, scooping everything into his bag, zipped it up and hiked it over his shoulder, walking right back out the door that was still wide open. Richie was back on his bike barely two minutes after getting home, and would be at Eddie’s in another eight, his thighs aching from pedalling so quickly.

The other week, when Richie asked Eddie to run away with him, it was honestly a shot in the dark that he’d had little to no hope of coming to fruition. Part of him felt like it was just another one of his stupid ideas that people scoffed or laughed at, and part of him figured Eddie would do exactly that. Only a very small, hidden, secret, locked away part actually believed it was a plan they could make happen. He still didn’t really believe it was a plan they could make happen. He had a difficult time keeping his mouth shut as it was, although anything that came out was most often of little substance anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone would take him seriously if he said he was going to run away with Eddie.

Richie huffed out a laugh. Running away with Eddie. It was fucking insane.

Richie had learned over the years that his feelings towards each of the members of the Loser’s Club were vastly different. There was Bill, who he looked up to and used to worship, who was growing into the young man Richie always hoped _he_ would be, who he would follow anywhere, who he followed into Neibolt without thinking twice because it was Bill and Richie trusted Bill more than any other person on the planet.

Then there was Stan and Beverly, who Richie might say were his best friends, in a way, because he loved them so fiercely and so deeply and would probably kill for them. He’d known Stan since kindergarten, they’d grown up together, grown into young men together. Richie had been there, arm around Stan while he cried after his Bar Mitzvah, sitting on the step outside the back of the synagogue, heads resting together. Stan had been the first person Richie told when his father started cheating on his mother, because Stan had been there when his parents were still in love and he had seen their relationship fall apart and he had seen the toll it took on Richie. Sometimes Richie wasn’t sure that Stan still treasured their friendship as much as he did, because he always told him he hated him and never laughed at his jokes or Voices and always had something negative to say about the movies and music Richie chose. Richie felt like they hadn’t been as close recently either, like they didn’t hang out one-on-one anymore and their phone calls were few and far between, and Richie kind of missed the dry humoured bastard who deadpanned like a motherfucker. But then there were moments when Stan would crack, he’d smirk or even bark out a laugh and look at Richie fondly, and Richie’s grin would take over his entire face because _Stan The Man thought he was funny_. It was the best fucking feeling.

Although he may not have known Beverly for as long as some of the others, Richie did know that they would be friends for the rest of their lives. They both knew what shitty parents were like, they both wanted to get the fuck away from their families as soon as they could, and when Bev took her life back, when her aunt moved from Portland to Derry for her, she’d sobbed in Richie’s arms because she was finally free from her father. Bev gave Richie his first cigarette and his first joint, and it became a weekly thing they did during the school year – under the bleachers, of course, because they were predictable like that. With a cigarette between their fingers and smoke surrounding their heads and not another person in sight, Richie and Bev were safe to talk about anything. Sometimes, when they were high, they’d lie down on the grass perpendicular to each other, her head on his stomach, passing a joint back and forth, discussing normal things like Joan Jett and David Bowie and Indiana Jones and The Breakfast Club, and weird fucking things like parallel universe theories and how long it would realistically take to swim to Europe and what would happen to the world if all adults suddenly disappeared. One time Richie brought a tennis ball and was throwing it up in the air and catching it, joint between his teeth as they chatted about music, and Bev snatched the ball away, started doing the same thing above her own head. Richie had huffed, taken another drag, and then the ball hit a beam and rebounded into his face, smashing his glasses, and then hitting Bev’s nose before bounding away. Richie had pulled the broken glasses off his face with a groan, eyes narrowed at Beverly and told her that _this is why we are the timeline that God abandoned_ and they had laughed so hard that they cried and their sides ached and they completely forgot about their half-baked plans to see Bon Jovi next time they toured. Beverly was the best friend that he always found himself laughing around, and god knew they all needed a good laugh sometimes.

Ben and Mike were also relatively new to the Losers’ Club and Richie sort of felt bad that he didn’t talk to them more. Over the last three years, Ben had grown close with Bev and Bill, and Mike had been spending time with Stan and Bill (because of course, every single person that knew Bill, loved him). Sure, sometimes the members of their group tended to split off and hang out with one or two other people, but the moments with all seven of them doubled over laughing after coming out of the Aladdin, or crowded around Richie or Bill at the arcade, cheering each other on to break their high scores, or bickering over which Queen song had the best guitar solo in the clubhouse – these moments were what warmed their hearts. And sure, sometimes it was just Ben and Bev, Bill and Stan and Mike, Richie and Eddie, but they always made sure to keep up the weekly gatherings, be it movie nights at Bill’s or trips to the mall to have lunch together or water fights in the quarry.

The Aladdin was probably Richie’s third favourite place in the world, only to Eddie’s room and the arcade. Their gang always took up the back row of the theatre, but no matter who was sitting where, Richie was always banished to the end of the line because he talked so much, and Eddie was always beside him. Somehow, Richie’s legs seemed to end up on top of Eddie most of the time, but neither of them ever mentioned it, even when Eddie’s fingers brushed Richie’s calf or played with his shoelaces. It was probably just because they were so used to doing that in the hammock down at the clubhouse. Probably just familiar and nice and especially during a horror movie, Richie knew Eddie needed comfort so he was just comforting his friend and his friend was simply allowing himself to be comforted, right? Right.

Except Richie knew that was such bullshit.

He had the biggest crush on his best friend and had known it in the back of his mind for years and he’d finally admitted it to himself during the whole clown fiasco when Eddie nearly died and then promptly squashed it down with the rest of his ridiculous feelings for cute boys and focused only on the ones for cute girls because he didn’t need anyone else knowing what a freak he was.

He pulled up to the Kaspbrak residence, not wanting to think about that old crush, that totally old and non-existent anymore crush, when he was about to see and hang out with and probably sleep next to said ex-crush in a few minutes. He stashed his bike in a bush that now had a bike-shaped indent, grabbing some small rocks from the garden and tossing them up into Eddie’s window.

It took three rocks before his friend’s face appeared, smile wide already. Richie grinned back, chest growing tight and warm at the sight of him. Ignoring the burn in his legs from all the strain he’d put on them this week, Richie scaled the tree as if it were second nature – which it kind of was, at this point, after so many years of doing it – feet instinctively finding the grooves and bumps in the trunk until he could reach the window sill. He swung a leg over and squeezed through the ever tight space, toppled into the room, glasses falling off his face – he really should have expected them to do that by now.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled, reaching out to find them.

“Here, dumbass,” came Eddie’s voice somewhere to his left. Richie turned his head, seeing an Eddie-shaped blob kneel down close to him, and then his glasses were back on his face, if not slightly skewed. He reached up to adjust them, locking eyes with Eddie, who was also kneeling on the floor.

“Thanks,” he said weakly, swallowed, then surged forward and threw his arms around his small friend. “I missed your stupid face, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie’s body relaxed when Eddie’s arms snaked around his back, squeezing back just as tight. He smiled into Eddie’s shoulder, resisting the urge to inhale deeply and fucking _smell_ his friend.

They settled on the bed, Eddie against the headboard and Richie cross-legged on the other end, digging through his backpack and throwing sweets at Eddie, when he noticed what was laid out on the bed. He grabbed an open book lying in front of Eddie.

“The fuck is this?”

“It’s a book, jackass.”

Richie resisted the urge to roll his eyes, slipping into one of his Voices easily. It was supposed to be his Southern Belle, but judging by the displeased and mildly amused look on Eddie’s face, it wasn’t quite hitting the mark tonight. “Oh, my, however can it be? A book, in this good Christian village? Lord help us all now that Eds Spagheds has sinned.” Richie peered at the front cover, dropping the act. “New York?”

Eddie shrugged, eyes dropping to where his hands were fidgeting with a candy wrapper. “Yeah, I thought we could look at going there when we, you know…” He trailed off, still not looking at Richie. “I was doing research on colleges and stuff today.”

Richie’s chest swelled with affection for his best friend, lips curving into a wide grin. “You’re so fucking cute, Eds. But why are you being all nervous and shit? It was a barely conceived plan when I asked you and you’ve somehow already put in more effort than me.”

Eddie shrugged again, sneaking a glance at Richie this time, voice much softer when he spoke again. “I dunno, I just… Kind of feel like there isn’t much I can do to help, you know? My mom would sooner smother me in my sleep than let me work in a filthy, greasy kitchen like you or whatever, so I can’t really contribute financially, and it sucks. I thought research was something I could do so I went with some of the others to the library and New York seemed like a viable place. Good schools, a shit ton nicer than the people in Derry.” He picked up a chocolate bar, the crinkle of the wrapper almost echoing in the room for how quiet the two boys were being. “Queens seems like one of the safer neighbourhoods,” he added, taking a bite of chocolate.

Toeing his shoes off, Richie’s face softened into a gentle smile, thinking about Eddie and probably Ben in the library today, noses in books for hours. They were really doing this, and New York sounded as good a place as any to Richie; as long as Eddie was safe and happy, then he was happy. Tucking his legs under himself to sit on his knees, Richie picked up another book from the small pile on Eddie’s nightstand and opened it to a random page. He shifted across the bed until he was sitting next to Eddie, snatching the candy from his friend’s fingers and popping it in his own mouth, much to Eddie’s protest. Richie passed Eddie the other book and grabbed another handful of candy from his bag, dropping it between them where the sides of their legs touched. He bumped Eddie’s shoulder gently, shot him a smirk, both of them holding an open book.

“C’mon. Let’s hop in and get researching.”


	3. Rich The Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 1992. Eddie breaks rules for Richie. Richie confides in Stan.

Eddie could hardly believe himself sometimes.

Here he was, downstairs at nearly midnight, sifting through his mother’s purse for small change that she wouldn’t notice going missing.

For fucking Richie, of course.

Since he started his job at Domino’s, Richie had been saving three-quarters of his paycheck for his and Eddie’s getaway, with most of the remainder used for buying food since the Toziers never kept the fridge or pantry stocked with anything substantial, which Eddie thought was preposterous. Eddie always snuck food into his bedroom on Thursday nights to make sure Richie was getting a somewhat balanced diet, and the one thing Richie’s house always seemed to have was snack food because Maggie Tozier liked to eat chocolate when she was drunk (seriously, who married a dentist and then practically lived off candy bars?), so Eddie knew he had kind of been eating properly. What he hadn’t accounted for was his unsavoury habit of smoking.

Eddie didn’t even know when Richie took up smoking, he just remembered seeing him and Beverly under the bleachers at school one time in freshman year, passing a cigarette back and forth between them, Bev’s head thrown back, laughing at something Richie was saying. Empty cigarette packets became one of those things that Eddie always found on Richie’s floor or desk, along with candy wrappers and plastic forks and scrunched up paper and unwashed clothes. But now, because of how diligently he was saving his money – which warmed Eddie’s heart to think about, Richie being responsible for him, for them – cigarettes had become something of a luxury.

Beverly had been stealing cigarettes for as long as they’d known her, and had recently started giving Richie a few from each pack, apparently not asking why he couldn’t just acquire his own, since the workers at the pharmacy didn’t give two shits about checking their age and it clearly wasn’t that difficult to swipe them. And although Eddie despised the fact that Richie smoked, he hated withdrawal-Richie even more. Withdrawal-Richie was somehow more restless and irritable than normal. Richie had tried giving up smoking completely about a year ago, but with all his mood swings, his newfound ability to get snappy over everything and yell at the drop of a hat, Eddie had honestly come very close to murdering him – he and Stan planned to smother him at a sleepover and drop his body in the Denbrough swimming pool to make it look like an accidental drowning. Withdrawal-Richie was more tired, more hungry and more annoying, and Eddie couldn’t stand to be around his best friend when he was like that.

So if Richie had barely any money to buy things he actually wanted, like cigarettes or movie tickets or a new t-shirt, and his deadbeat parents weren’t going to do anything about it, then Eddie supposed he had to step up and buy stuff for him. Which is how he found himself at 11:48pm going through his mother’s handbag.

He found a few dollar notes and some coins, scooping the cash up and depositing it into his fanny pack on the table, moving slowly to not let the coins clink against each other. If he came back a few nights later and snatched up some more, it’d be more than enough for Richie to buy himself some cigarettes.

Eddie was somewhat pleased with himself, if he were being honest.

Later in the week found Eddie at the pizza place, where he’d taken to hanging out lately since it was effectively the only time was he would get to see Richie if it wasn’t a Thursday. He _had_ only been there yesterday and Richie _had_ crawled into his room last night, as per usual Thursday, but Eddie’s mother had recently increased his allowance because of the one time she heard his stomach growling when he came home from the quarry, said something about being a growing boy and the extra cash was strictly to get himself fruit salad or some healthy shit when he was out with his friends. Of course, what Mrs Kaspbrak didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, so Eddie had been finding himself at Domino’s a few times a week, ordering garlic bread or a milkshake if he were alone, or on the odd occasion Bill and Stan would come with him, they’d get pizza and sodas to share.

The first time Eddie came into the restaurant, Richie nearly squealed, threw his dumb, red work hat in the air like a graduation cap. They hadn’t seen each other for three days at that point, and although Eddie had been spending more and more time with Ben, Mike and Stan in the library, reading and chatting and learning, he missed the _fun_ of being around Richie, even if it was just comments in passing while he waited other people’s tables. That first time, Eddie had ordered a vanilla milkshake and sat by the window, alternating between watching people go about their lives outside and observing Richie at the front counter. He had greeted every customer with a grin, quickly jotting down their order and letting them know how long they’d need to wait. Eddie hadn’t been able to help the soft smile that graced his face, watching his best friend work his ass off. Even if their getaway was not the underlying reason Richie had gotten a job in the first place, Eddie would have been proud of him for being mature enough to hold down a part-time job for more than a week. Although, it ticked Stan off to no end knowing that Richie was capable of being mature, but never behaved as such around the Losers.

Today, Eddie was seated in his usual spot by the window, slice of garlic pizza in one hand, novel in the other. He and Ben had talked about what they were going to be studying in English next semester and Eddie figured that if he ever had a chance of getting a scholarship somewhere after senior year, he’d better start implementing good study habits now. In his fanny pack was an envelope filled with a little note he’d written and four dollars of stolen spare change – a gift for Richie for working at the pizza place for a whole month. It’d be enough to get him a pack of cigarettes and perhaps he could use the rest to go towards a new comic book or something; Eddie had noticed Richie was reading the same one the last two times the Losers hung out and Richie was not a slow reader by any means. He was way too fucking smart, actually, considering how little effort he put into literally anything to do with school or learning. And on the other hand, here Eddie was, during fucking summer, struggling to read this stupid tragedy about a dumbass prince and his dumbass murdering family, while Richie could probably read the whole damn book in one night, Shakespearian language be damned.

Eddie had been at it for close to an hour when Richie finally came over to him.

“Good day, Spaghetti Man! ‘Tis a pleasure, as always, to see yer face.” Apparently he was back at it with the Irish Guy. “Wotcha got there, aye?” He snatched the book from Eddie and inspected it, nose scrunching in disgust as he read the front cover, dropping the Voice immediately. “What the fuck, Eds? Have you been infected by whatever disorder Stan has that’s got you reading this bullshit? _Voluntarily_?” His already large eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he gawked at Eddie.

Eddie snatched his book back. “It’s not a fucking disorder, you idiot. It’s called studying, and yes, I’m pre-reading for school because, in case you weren’t aware, some of us have to actually try hard in school to get As and Bs,” he spat, although he was sure Richie could tell there wasn’t any venom behind his words; it was all for show, it always was.

“Right, right,” Richie nodded, brows furrowing together with fake deep thought as he brought a hand to his chest. “Yer absolutely correct, Eddie me love, an’ I am deeply sorry tha’ my natural smarts offend yer tiny brain so much. It’s just another reason why ya mum loves me.” He smirked, picking up Eddie’s empty small pizza box and walking back to the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to see Eddie’s extremely unamused glare at the back of his head. “See ya t’morrow at Billy’s, Eds!”

Honestly, he was _insufferable_ sometimes.

Bookmarking his page, Eddie then withdrew the envelope from his fanny pack and placed it on the table along with a tip, not waiting for Richie to emerge from the back of the store to leave. He’d left little notes and other shit along with his tip before, and Richie never really mentioned it afterwards, but he did see him wearing the stupid friendship bracelet Eddie made one time a few weeks ago, so Eddie knew he was getting the little gifts. Still, as he closed the shop door behind him, Eddie turned around and looked back through the window to see Richie back at his table, inspecting the handwritten note with a big, dumb grin on his face. That was confirmation enough for Eddie to know he’d done a good job, so he left, the grin forming on his own face just as big and just as dumb.

* * *

True to form, the Losers had organised yet another sleepover at Bill’s house that weekend. It was becoming something of a tradition, actually. Nearly every weekend that summer so far had found the seven of them strewn across the Denbrough living room, some huddled together on the couch, some on the floor, and then Stan in the armchair, because no one wanted to listen to him complain about a sore back or sweaty neck for the whole night if they made him sit anywhere else. This time, however, Beverly had come through with the good shit, bringing a bottle of vodka for them to share. Richie wasn’t sure who had decided on the Back To The Future marathon, because when he had arrived after his shift finished at 8pm, they had already been putting the first film on. Not that he minded at all – Lea Thompson was hot as fuck. And Michael J. Fox, if he were being honest, but he would deny that into his grave if asked.

“Nice of you to show up, Trashmouth,” Stan quipped when Richie hollered from the door upon entering.

“I think you mean ‘grace y’all with my presence’. You should be thanking the stars that I deemed you worthy of my time at all, you lucky bastards,” he shot right back, winking at Stan. Richie saw Mike, Bill and Eddie on the couch together and, as if it weren’t still a reasonably warm night, squeezed himself between Bill and Eddie, much to both of their irritation.

“How do you have such little respect for anyone else’s personal space?” Stan asked, rolling his eyes as Richie and Eddie starting poking each other.

“Yeah, fuck off, Richie,” Eddie added, and Richie clutched at his chest, feigning heartbreak as Eddie’s fingers tickled at his side.

“Eds! You betray me! Hide not thy poison with such sweet words! Don’t lay thy fucking hands on me because thy touch is a serpent’s sting!”

Ben turned around to look up at them from the floor. “Did you just incorrectly quote Shakespeare?”

Stan snorted. “Who knew Richie had even seen a book before. I am genuinely surprised he hasn’t flunked out of school yet.”

“Aaaand, Stanley Uris, lady and gentlemen, is single and available. Hard to imagine, isn’t it?”

Stan threw his shoe at him.

They had already gone through most of the bottle by the time the credits rolled. Bill got up from his spot on the couch next to Richie, nearly tripped over Mike’s legs that were stretched out from where he sat on Bill’s other side at the right end of the couch, and plopped himself in front of the television to put in the second movie.

“Anyone want mmmore popcorn?” he asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Richie piped up at the same time Ben said “Yes please,” from his seat on the floor next to Bev. Seeing Bill’s alcohol-induced struggle to open the VHS tape, Mike got up, volunteering himself to make some more.

“Thanks, Mike,” Bev said, shooting him a smile as he left the room.

Richie turned to Eddie, who was tucked into his left side against the side of the couch with a thin blanket around him. “How ya doin’, Eds? Ready to pass out from alcohol poisoning yet?” he teased, knowing fully well how much Eddie hated being such a lightweight.

He pouted. “No! I’ve only had like four or five sips. And stop calling me that, you know I hate it.”

Richie snorted, lifting his arms up to drape them across the back of the couch and around Eddie’s shoulders. “Sure thing, Eds.” He ruffled his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp until Eddie swatted his hand away.

The TV screen sprung back to life and Mike walked back into the room, two large bowls of fresh popcorn in hand. He passed one to Ben and Bev on the floor and another to Bill, who had just stood up to join them on the couch again.

About half an hour into the movie, after the rest of the alcohol had been consumed, Richie noticed Bill nodding off when, more than once, he leaned into Richie’s side, head dropping against his shoulder for a second before he abruptly sat up again.

“S’rry, R-R-Rich,” he mumbled, words slurring from some combination of tiredness and alcohol. Bill shifted away from him then, instead choosing to lean against Mike, who Richie noticed was also asleep. He glanced down to the floor and saw Bev’s mop of vibrant hair against Ben’s shoulders and smirked, knowing the boy was probably freaking out about her being so close. Richie’s eyes then darted across to Eddie, who was kind of awake, but judging by the glazed look he had in his eyes, wasn’t far from falling asleep either. Stan had nodded off almost as soon as the second film had started, even though Richie was pretty sure even Eddie had drunk more vodka than Stan.

“Jesus,” Richie said, shaking his head at how pathetic his friends were sometimes. “You guys all asleep already?”

“I’m awake.” Ben’s hushed voice came from near Richie’s feet. “Beverly’s out cold, though.”

Bill mumbled something incoherent, snuggling into Richie and Mike even more.

Turning his head to the side, Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear. “Did you know that boss guy is the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bass player? Cool, right? You know, if I had a DeLorean, I’d only drive it from _time to time_.” He paused when Eddie snorted, which was a success in Richie’s book. “And to go back to when your mom was young and hot, you know, in the 1800s—”

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie mumbled, but Richie could hear the smile in his voice and glancing down at his sleepy friend confirmed his thoughts.

“You fucking _live_ for my commentary, don’t deny it. You could never resist the Tozier charm. And it must run in your family, becau—ghhh."

Eddie slapped his hand over Richie’s mouth, shaking his head. “Nope, that’s two mom jokes in less than a minute. I’m going to sleep.” He turned away from Richie, dropping his hand to tuck his arms into his chest, his back against Richie’s side.

Richie waited a moment before continuing. “Although, no one runs in your family,” he hissed in Eddie’s ear.

Eddie smacked him, but he kind of deserved it.

Despite Richie’s _hilarious_ running commentary, Eddie did manage to fall asleep by the time the film ended. Ben was still up, yawning as he switched the tapes and started the third movie, turning the volume down a little more. Richie tried to shuffle Eddie around to get them both more comfortable, leaning his back against Bill’s side and pulling Eddie’s back against his chest. He yanked the blanket as it slid off Eddie, draping it over his shoulders and under his chin. Only a few minutes after the opening credits, Richie heard Ben’s snoring, and chuckled quietly to himself.

Last man standing, as per usual.

Richie was absentmindedly running his fingers through Eddie’s hair over and over. It had started to grow out a little longer, get a little curlier and wilder – nowhere in Richie’s league, though – and Richie sort of liked it. Made Eddie seem less put together and he wasn’t sure why that made him cuter but somehow it did. He hummed, content, rested his cheek against the top of Eddie’s head, eyes starting to droop after the McFly-Tannen faceoff scene, wondering what fake name he would choose if he went back in time and gunned down a crazy cowboy.

He was pulled from his imagination when he heard a whimper to his left, and then another, louder and more scared this time. Eyes shooting open, he looked down at Eddie, who hadn’t moved, and then up to Stan, whose brows were furrowed together, lip quivering slightly. Richie opened his mouth to say something when Stan jolted upright with a shout, knocking his blanket to the floor. He whipped around in the dark room only illuminated by the glow of the TV, red cheeks tear-stained as he locked eyes with Richie, chest heaving.

“Don’t!” His leg kicked out from underneath him, seemingly involuntarily, face falling into his hands, mumbling through choked sobs. “D-Don’t leave, you lef—you left me! Why would you lea—”

“Stanley.” Richie’s voice cut through his friend’s distraught rambling, sat up as much as he could with Eddie half on top of him, and placed a hand on the armchair. He’d learned, after being with Eddie through so many panic attacks over the years, what to do in a situation such as this, and those instincts took over. “Stan, you’re okay. It’s Saturday, July 25th 1992\. You’re in Bill Denbrough’s house, watching Back To The Future Three with me, your friend, Richie Tozier. You’re okay and you’re safe, okay? Copy my breathing.” Richie inhaled and exhaled slowly, kept his eyes on Stan until his breathing calmed down, returning to a normal pace.

Stan’s eyes slid shut for a few seconds and Richie wondered if he were going to just go back to sleep, when he opened his eyes again and looked at Richie fondly, placing his hand on top of Richie’s on the arm of his seat.

“Thanks, Rich,” Stan mumbled, dropping his gaze and then his hand.

“Not a problemo, Stan The Man. I’ve gotten used to dealing with this dickhead flipping out on me from time to time.” He gestured at Eddie in his lap, his voice gentler when he spoke again, “You are okay, though, right?”

Richie was kind of aware that Stan still had nightmares sometimes. Not many of them had one-on-one sleepovers anymore, but Bill and Stan occasionally stayed at each other’s houses since their families got along so well, and Bill had confided in Richie – who the fuck knew why – because he was so worried about their friend not being able to sleep through the night two whole years after they’d killed that wretched clown.

Stan was still for a few moments, as if contemplating how to respond to Richie’s question. He nodded slowly, eyes downcast, and whispered, “Yeah.”

Richie glanced around the room, a little surprised that no one else had woken up with Stan’s shouting, but thought better than to mention it; Stan was always the most put together in their group and probably wouldn’t take kindly to Richie outing him as a softy or scaredy cat or whatever.

“Bill worries about you,” he settled on saying. He watched the TV screen, not really paying attention to the movie anymore, but also not wanting to maintain eye contact with Stan lest he brush it all off and return into his highly-put-together shell, or pretend this whole situation never happened. It was strangely comforting to know that Richie wasn’t the only one slightly adverse to emotional interactions.

“I know,” Stan replied, still whispering.

Richie dropped his own voice to match. “I think we all still have nightmares sometimes.” He tried to come off as empathising and comforting rather than pitying, but he didn’t know how well he achieved that. Richie sucked at emotions sometimes.

“I know.”

“And it doesn’t make you weak or stupid or anything.”

“I know.”

Richie paused. One side of his mouth curved upwards slightly. “Well, aren’t you just a regular Einstein, Staniel?”

Stan huffed out something that resembled a laugh and smiled. Richie’s chest warmed.

“I suppose I am,” Stan said.

Their attention returned to the movie, but Richie was sure neither of them were actually taking in what they were watching. His fingers were still tangled in Eddie’s hair, caressing gently, and after a few minutes of blankly staring at the television, he felt Stan’s eyes boring into the side of his face. Richie snuck a glance at his friend and caught him looking.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dude, come on, what is it?”

Stan shook his head, smiling again. He was still staring at Richie and it was almost starting to make him feel a little self-conscious. Then Stan’s gaze dropped from Richie’s eyes to his hand – the one in Eddie’s hair. Richie stopped moving, definitely self-conscious now. He swallowed. He couldn’t know for sure what Stan was trying to convey to him by looking at his hand in Eddie’s hair, but the lurch that his stomach gave initially had subsided when they made eye contact again, and Stan was still smiling softly.

And apparently his fear was written all over his face.

“It’s okay, Richie,” Stan said, nodding to gesture at Richie’s hand in Eddie’s hair. “You’re okay.”

Richie’s jaw tightened, his lips parted, his sharp intake of breath loud in the room because the TV had become nothing but white noise when Richie and Stan were having a moment like this.

Stan was still looking at him fondly.

Stan said it was okay.

Stan said _he_ was okay.

Richie blinked, eyes starting their tell-tale burn when tears were on the way. His brows furrowed together and Stan was still smiling at him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a gentler expression on his friend’s face. Stan opened his mouth slightly, then closed it. He pursed his lips, but didn’t really look like he was uncomfortable, just a little unsure, perhaps.

“Are you… Do you…”

He let his words hang in their air between them, didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to; Richie understood. He looked down at Eddie, eyes dancing over his sleeping friend’s face, drinking in his relaxed features, gentle with sleep. When he finally looked back up at Stan, he nodded twice, slowly, and Stan’s soft smile twitched, grew a little wider, and Richie’s heart swelled a little more.

“I know,” Stan said.

Richie huffed out a short, disbelieving laugh-scoff. “How?” he asked.

It was a little concerning that Stan figured it out, because Richie thought he’d been doing a splendid job of hiding his ridiculous feelings, but apparently not. What if someone else had figured it out, someone who wasn’t as kind as Stan? Richie’s body ran cold, his breathing picking up slightly. He used to get teased and bullied in middle school for this exact reason, but he was sure that most people thought it was just another random rumour that Bowers started to harass the weird kids, not knowing that everything they said was completely and entirely true.

“Mostly it’s the way you treat him,” Stan replied with a slight shrug. “It’s just that little bit different from everyone else.”

Richie’s eyes darted anxiously around the room at their friends.

Stan quickly shook his head. “None of them know, I don’t think. I mean, we all know you worship the ground Eddie walks on—” Richie rolled his eyes “—but I think they just think it’s because he’s your best friend.”

“Which he is. The rest of you suck balls.”

“Yeah, but _I_ could always tell it was more than that.”

Richie’s brow creased. “Always?”

“At least the past couple of years. You pick on him so damn much, it was impossible to not notice. For me. I’ve known you your whole life, Tozier, don’t think I can’t tell when you have a crush.”

At that, Richie smiled, dropping his chin as he felt his cheeks flush. Stan reached over with his palm up and Richie slipped his hand into his and squeezed.

“Thanks, Stan,” he whispered.

“Not a problemo… Rich The Bitch.”

Richie laughed and a tear slipped down his cheek. It was so fucking good to have a friend like Stan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter tbh, particularly Eddie's part, but whatever. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! :))


	4. NICE ASS E.K.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September - October 1992. Everyone is getting busy and also getting girlfriends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to figure out how to nicely portray the passage of time between events, but as the description says, this chapter spans two months and is basically a bunch of snippets across that time, so I hope that comes across when you read it.

Eddie looked down at the piece of paper in front of him, read over his timetable before leaning across Bill’s desk to look at his friend’s schedule to see if they were in any of the same classes.

“Psychology and gym!”

It was the first day of their junior year and Eddie was sitting in homeroom. He and Bill had been in the same class every year in elementary school and the same homeroom every year in middle and high school – it was the best kind of coincidence and Eddie probably would have thrown a bitch fit if he didn’t share classes with his best and longest friend again this year.

“What I want to kn-know is how you convinced your mom to let you take g-g-gym this year.”

Eddie shrugged. “I told her I needed to take up extracurriculars to look good on college applications for next year and she allowed me one class of my choice to work towards that. I was thinking of trying out for the track team, actually.”

Bill didn’t bother trying to mask the surprise on his face, eyebrows shooting up, getting lost in his bangs. “Track?”

“She knows I know my asthma isn’t real, so she has no backup or evidence to stop me.” He shrugged. “In her own fucked up way, she loves me and wants me to be successful. She’d just rather I do that at Maine Community College so I don’t leave her.” Eddie was planning to lie his way through every discussion about college that came up with his mother. He would tell her that he’ll apply to colleges in Maine and eventually, hopefully, when he was accepted into a school in New York, he would pretend to receive an acceptance letter from Maine to shut her up, and then one day Sonia would wake up and Eddie would be hours away from her and she wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.

“I might go to the f-football team tryouts,” Bill said.

Now it was Eddie’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You’re going to become too popular for the Losers,” he said, shoving Bill’s shoulder playfully.

Bill smiled, shaking his head. “Who knows if I’ll even get in.”

Their whole group ended up having a discussion at lunch about joining clubs and Eddie was a little miffed that they sniggered at him when he mentioned track. He pouted, folded his arms across his chest and explained that his gym teachers had in the past said he was a good runner, a great one, even. Richie pinched his cheeks and Bev ruffled his hair and Stan made a snarky comment and why couldn’t they take him seriously?

“It’s not funny, guys,” he insisted, dropping his hands to his hips and pouting. Richie called him cute and that just made Eddie pout even harder.

Richie’s bright idea was the join the drama club. Eddie would never, not in a million years, admit that he thought it was a perfect fit. Over the decade they had known each other, Richie’s Voices had certainly improved, to the point where Eddie could almost call them actual accents. Gone were the days of the British Guy and Irish Guy and Scottish Guy all sounding exactly the same. Eddie had been the guinea pig for Richie’s practising, while they snuggled on the couch at movie nights with Richie mumbling dialogue lines into Eddie’s ear in an attempt to imitate the actors on screen, or while lying on one of their bedroom floors doing homework with Richie reading Eddie’s notes aloud in various versions of a Spanish or Australian accent. Richie had grabbed a notice from the drama teacher about the fall play and spring musical, and Eddie begrudgingly said he’d come to watch Richie audition. Richie beamed.

Both Bill and Mike got on the football team. Mike had convinced his parents to let him go to public school when they all started freshman year, and quickly gained popularity because of his charming personality and kind heart. And yeah, he was kind of hot. Given how much he had bulked up over the last few years, working on the farm, Eddie wasn’t surprised at all to hear he was the quarterback. Bill found himself in the cornerback position, which was fitting because even though he was reasonably tall, that boy was _fast_.

Ben ended up joining the track team with Eddie and was in the same gym class as Bill and him. He also mentioned something about woodwork or architecture or something building related. It sounded perfect for him; Ben had single-handedly built their group an underground hideout when he was fourteen, so of course, he was going to excel in whatever construction or design activity he pursued.

Bev said that she had signed up for the fashion and textiles club that morning since her homeroom teacher ran the club and asked about the unique denim jacket Bev was wearing, which she’d patched together herself. Everyone was super happy for her getting recognition for her work already and told her how fantastic she was going to be. Eddie was still a little annoyed that they’d all joked about _his_ club of choice.

Upon learning that there was no bird club, Stan furiously marched off, muttering something about how chess would have to do and this school is utter bullshit honestly. Richie threw his head back and laughed.

Eddie and Ben’s first athletics event was a few weeks into the school year and the whole gang came to cheer them on. Richie and Bev made a huge sign with red block letters that declared NICE ASS E.K. It made Eddie blush furiously and then avoid eye contact with his stupid friends for the entire race. Calling him cute was one thing, but Richie hadn’t really said anything like this before. He wondered if the sign was his or Beverly’s idea. Even when he was just standing there, waiting for the third runner to pass the baton to him, Eddie kept his knees bent and eyes down because any time he looked up, Richie would start shouting his name over the small crowd.

It was exhilarating, being able to run like this. He felt free, unbounded, unconstrained, with just the ground solid beneath his feet and the wind whipping past his face. It was the one benefit of being small, he supposed. Without the constrictions his mother had set on his life, Eddie had learned pretty quickly that he was a fast runner. Without her placing restraint on everything he did, Eddie found himself out-running everyone at the track tryouts, earning him a position on the team. He ran the 100 and 200 metre races and was the fourth and last runner in the relay team. Eddie had to admit, he was actually proud of himself for once. Fuck his mom and that bullshit inhaler.

Their team ended up coming second, but it was okay because all their friends came running onto the field and engulfed Ben in hugs and lifted Eddie above their heads, chanting _Losers! Losers!_ over and over. Eddie’s heart swelled, up on Mike and Bill’s shoulders, one of Richie’s hands in his, and looked down to see Richie’s other arm as well as Bev and Stan wrapped around Ben, all jumping up and down smiling so widely their cheeks must have been aching. Eddie’s cheeks were aching.

After he and Ben showered and changed, the seven of them met up at the front of the school, still slightly giddy from their little celebration earlier. Richie and Beverly were passing a cigarette back and forth, Bill and Stan bickering about something with Mike nodding intently at both of them. Ben walked over to the three boys and joined their conversation seamlessly, while Eddie stared at the cigarette sticking out of Bev’s mouth.

“You guys know people die all the time from that shit, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it, Kaspbrak,” she shot back.

Richie stepped closer to him, leaning down to mumble beside his ear. “You don’t get to lecture us when you fuel my addiction with your cute little notes and extra tips, okay?”

Eddie blushed for the second time that day. “Just because I give you some of my allowance,” he hissed back, “Doesn’t mean I condone you getting sick or killing yourself. Not that I’d miss you or anything; you’re a piece of shit.”

“Please,” Richie scoffed, stepping back to take the cigarette from Beverly, “You would cry if I disappeared, Spaghetti Head. You’d _bawl_ your eyes out every day if you didn’t get to see this flawless face.” He took a drag, blew the smoke in the opposite direction of Eddie, then leaned down and pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of his head.

“Ugh! You’re so gross, Richie.” He wiped his face, ignoring Bev cracking up next to them.

They ended up at Mike’s farm in an empty barn with a bottle of whisky that Richie had swiped from his mother’s liquor cabinet. This started happening after most of their events – to get drunk at Mike’s in celebration, if possible, or at least spend the afternoon or evening together, having fun as a whole group. This time it was Eddie and Ben singing (screeching) We Are The Champions in the barn at the top of their lungs with the others bouncing in a circle around them, even though they definitely were not the champions of the race.

After Stan’s first chess tournament – during the day on a Tuesday, which made it rather difficult for any of them to convince their parents to allow them to have a sleepover – they gathered at the arcade for pizza, fries, milkshakes and juice, clinking glasses together and shouting Stan’s name across the table, making the boy roll his eyes and crack a smile.

After every one of Bill and Mike’s football games, there was a proper, organised after party that Eddie really did not want to attend, but Bev and Richie always wanted to go, which meant Ben would, too, and Stan and Eddie would consequently be dragged along against their will. Drinking at one of their houses with only their small group was one thing, but Eddie fucking hated parties. It was always too loud, heavy music thumping in his ears, people were sweaty and gross and constantly pressed up against each other or sucking face in the corner, and he always, _always_ , lost his friends amongst the crowd.

At one of these after parties, after sulking against the wall for nearly an hour, nursing a can of Pepsi Max – because _someone_ in their group had to be responsible – Eddie finally found Richie and Bill in the middle of a game of beer pong with Samantha Nikolaou and Tammy Ferris from their math class. Judging by the placement of cups left on the table, Richie and Tammy were failing miserably. Mike was laughing and cheering at Bill’s side – Bill had sort of become a legend at that damn game and Eddie had to admit, as he watched Bill position himself, marking his movements slowly and then lobbing the ball across the table right into the last cup in front of Tammy, he was a little impressed. Samantha and Bill started jumping up and down in celebration, Mike was still bopping along to the music as he cheered for them, and Richie shoved Tammy lightly and grabbed the drink, hissing something about making them lose, although Eddie was sure she couldn’t hear him over the music.

Soon after, when Tammy was dragged away by Samantha to follow Bill and Mike into the kitchen for victory shots – even though that did not make sense in Tammy’s case – Richie flung his arm over Eddie’s shoulder, leaning his weight against him.

“You’re ffffuckin’ cute,” Richie slurred, leaning down to rub his nose against Eddie’s temple.

Eddie had to shout over the music. “Jesus, Rich, how much have you had?”

“I dunno, Eds, you’re the smart one ‘ere, you figure it out.”

Something that was never spoken about but the Losers universally acknowledged was that Richie was Eddie’s responsibility when they were all drunk. It was as if, although they all had each other’s backs, of course, Richie and Eddie were like a package deal. The Dream Team, Richie called them. Part of Eddie thought the others just didn’t want to be around Richie when he was like this, which he supposed he understood; initially, he hated looking after Richie when he was this drunk, too. He was so sloppy and grabby, more than usual, if that were even possible, pressing almost his entire weight into Eddie’s side or drooped across his shoulders and dragging them both down to the floor in a fit of laughter – Richie’s laughter, Eddie was definitely not amused at the situation in the slightest. Over time, however, Eddie learned that if he just agreed with everything Richie said, he’d get him home safely much, much quicker. The other part of Eddie knew that the Losers’ reasoning was absolutely correct. Eddie had no clue why, but he was clearly Richie’s favourite person to be around when he was wasted. Or maybe just in general, he wasn’t sure.

“Probably enough for the night, then,” Eddie proposed, not that he’d take no for an answer at this point.

Richie nodded dumbly, shifting on his feet to face Eddie. “Y’know, my audition isssss in two days.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Did you still want me to come watch?”

“Mmmm y-yes I do, indeed, Mr Spaghetti Man. Um, B said not to bring a… a crowd, but ’m sure you’ll be allowed. I jus’ gotta do a mon-monah… log? It’s like a Cain and Abel thingy. S’mthin’ about two bros bein’ not cool to each other.”

Turned out, Richie was talking about a Sam Shepard play. Eddie had heard he was a well-regarded playwright and upon reading through the script of True West that Richie had been given, he wasn’t sure if he could see Richie fitting either of the two lead roles. Although he supposed he hadn’t ever seen Richie _act_ properly. According to his report card last year, he was always taking initiative and volunteering himself for class activities and little skits and such, so maybe Eddie would be pleasantly surprised. Maybe. But he doubted it, so, eager to witness the inevitable train wreck that was Richie on stage, Eddie and Bev arrived ten minutes early, watching the few people before Richie’s five-fifteen timeslot. They were okay. Two of the three people they saw read for the role of Austin, the rich brother, and the other tried out for the poor brother, Lee. Eddie didn’t know which character Richie was going for because he refused to tell him, no matter how much he badgered and pouted.

One leg bouncing up and down, he periodically checked his watch every three or four minutes, starting to feel antsy while waiting. Bev smacked his arm lightly after the third time.

“Dude, stop that, you’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I just don’t know what to expect and it’s doing my head in.”

Mr Batalha, the drama teacher, then cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone again. “Richard Tozier.”

Eddie sucked in a breath. The curtain on the left side of the stage fluttered and Eddie’s jaw nearly dropped when he saw Richie. He looked like a normal human being, with black jeans that had no holes in them and a white t-shirt underneath an open dark blue button-down. No bright patterns, no stripes or cartoons or band logos. His hair looked like he might have even brushed it sometime in the last thirty minutes since Eddie saw him after school. He didn’t even know Richie owned such modest clothes.

Richie’s eyes scanned the small crowd behind Mr B and he smirked when they landed on Eddie and Bev, shooting them a wink.

“Mr Tozier,” B said, briefly looking down at the papers in front of him. “You’re going to be reading for the role of Lee. Alright, the stage is all yours. Good luck.”

Richie looked at Bev and then Eddie, then took off his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. He dropped his head and placed his hands on his hips. Eddie swallowed. Richie scoffed, head shooting up, and he stared straight above their heads at the back of the auditorium, the shocked expression forming on his face different to anything Eddie had ever seen.

“Are you crazy or somethin’?” he began, shaking his head. “You’re down here, rollin’ in bucks, and you wanna go out and learn how to live in the _desert_?”

His accent was vaguely similar to the Southern Belle Eddie was used to hearing, but much more authentic. Richie’s arm shot out, gesturing sideways.

“Do you actually think I _chose_ to live out in the middle o’ nowhere? You—you think it was some kind of a-a philosophical decision I took or somethin’?” He gawked, glancing around the room in disbelief. “I’m livin’ out there ‘cause I can’t make it here! And you’re bitchin’ to me about all your success?!”

He was pointing to the ground beneath his feet. He stepped forward and Eddie leaned back instinctively, almost a little intimidated by this fake version of Richie. The second half of the monologue was calmer, quieter, like the character was having a civil conversation with his brother instead of incredulously yelling at him. When he was done, Richie dropped his gaze and slid his glasses back on his face, and when he met Eddie’s eyes again, they were bright and shiny and large and back to normal. Eddie had to squeeze Bev’s hand to stop himself from jumping up and cheering loudly.

“Thank you, Mr Tozier,” B said, voice steady and not telling of his feedback or opinion at all.

When Eddie and Bev found Richie to congratulate him after the auditions were over, Richie swooped in with his arms out, snaking them under Bev’s to lift her up and spin her around. Bev squealed, clutched Richie’s shoulders and demanded he put her down. When Richie turned to Eddie to give him the same treatment, Eddie smacked his hand away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warned, but the gentle smile on his face must have betrayed him, because Richie picked him up anyway.

“How’d I do, Eds?” he asked after setting him back down.

Eddie huffed, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “You… you were actually pretty good.”

Richie wiggled his goddamn eyebrows at him and Eddie wanted to smack him again.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Do my ears deceive me? Is that a Spaghetti compliment right from the pasta’s mouth?!”

“Don’t make me regret ever meeting you, you dick.”

“Just wait until you see the finished product, Eddie my love, and you’ll be smitten by this Tozier Charm with a capital C.”

“I’m gonna murder your stupid ass.”

Richie’s brows shot back up, disappearing under his wild fringe. “Oh yeah? Then who will you yell at and constantly undermine, hm? B-B-B-Bill? Nah, I don’t think so, you actually like him.”

Eddie frowned. The conversation suddenly felt less playful and more like Richie was actually hurt by what he was saying. But he couldn’t be, could he? Richie never took anything seriously.

“Oookay, I’m going to leave you two to have your lover’s quarrel in peace,” Beverly said, backing away with her hands up, palms facing them in defence.

“Shut up, Bev,” Eddie muttered.

“Good job, Rich, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

After she left, Eddie turned back to Richie, whose hands were balled up and shoved in his pockets, eyes incredibly interested in his shoes or something else on the ground.

“Hey,” Eddie started, not really sure how to approach this soft version of Richie. Jesus, it was as if his friend had suddenly grown ten new personalities in the past six months and Eddie only knew how to deal with three of them so now he was blindly fumbling around his best friend like he didn’t even know him anymore.

“Heyo yourself, Spaghetti-o,” Richie replied, but the playful tone wasn’t quite there.

Eddie swallowed, took a step forward and placed his hand on Richie’s forearm. This made him look up, large eyes locking with Eddie’s that seemed so much bigger up close.

“I meant it; you were really good, Richie. I’m… I’m sorry if I’m an asshole sometimes. Well, if I’m an asshole all the time instead of being an asshole only sometimes. I don’t mean to be such an asshole, it just sort of happens.”

“Say asshole one more time, Eds.”

“Beep beep, asshole.”

Richie finally smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. It always warmed Eddie’s insides to see his best friend happy, especially after one of their tiffs got a bit out of hand like this. That being said, Eddie didn’t think he’d said anything particularly hurtful or venomous this time. Richie then started to explain himself.

“I just…” He shrugged. “I dunno, it’s probably something to do with my parents not ever caring when I did something good, but sometimes the backhanded compliments just _get_ to me, or whatever.”

Eddie’s heart sank. Richie could try to brush it off by tacking a ‘whatever’ on the end, but Eddie knew firsthand how much Mr and Mrs Tozier’s indifferent behaviour affected their son. He’d seen Richie physically deflate when he’d shown his father some math award he’d gotten in seventh grade and he said ‘good work, Richard’ without even looking up from his paperwork to see the certificate. He’d heard them, on multiple occasions, loudly mumble to themselves how they wished they’d had a girl because Richie was so much trouble. Eddie knew, though Richie had never told him, that his Voices began as a way to attract his parents attention, because everything he did _himself_ wasn’t good enough for them to look away from their wine or newspaper for more than a second, so maybe if he was funny, maybe if he was entertaining, they would look at him with more than disappointment and regret in their eyes.

Eddie’s body felt cold and regretful for his own words directed at Richie, even if they were meant in jest, they obviously hit home a bit too much to be taken as such.

“You were amazing, Richie, truly. Just ask Beverly how tight I was squeezing her hand just so I didn’t give you a standing ovation and embarrass you and myself.”

Richie ran a hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses slightly. “It’s only a standing ovation if the whole audience stands up.”

Eddie rolled his eyes with a smile. “You know what I mean, dickw— Richie.”

The look of disbelief Richie gave him was almost comical. “Come now, don’t you start going soft on me just ‘cause I had a bit of a moment. I’ll fucking fight you, Eduardo. Come on, insult me, you know you’re just dying to insult me.”

Eddie couldn’t help but grin back. “Fuck you, dickwad.”

About a week after Richie’s audition was their first calculus test. It was a long test that took up the whole double period because there were about four or five chapters’ worth of content in it. Eddie nearly died when he flipped through the thick booklet placed in front of him at the start of the lesson. His eyes nearly bulged right out of their sockets when he read through the _fifteen questions with multiple parts_. He started to sweat a little. How the fuck was he supposed to keep his GPA up if calc kept kicking his ass like this? What the fuck was the difference between a definite and indefinite integral again? Something about bounds, he remembered. Eddie tried to sneak a glance at Richie’s desk next to him, but the boy was already on the next page, or maybe even a few more pages ahead. Rubbing his eyes, Eddie picked up his pencil again. Writing something down was better than writing nothing, he told himself. Maybe he’d get marks for working out or saying which formula he was using, even if he had no fucking clue how half of them worked.

He should have just taken statistics this semester.

Except no, Richie was in AP statistics and Eddie couldn’t survive a math class without Richie, so here he was instead… also not surviving.

After school, Eddie dramatically threw himself against his locker and groaned, ignoring Richie’s smug expression as they packed their bags to head home.

“Drama queen,” Richie chastised. “It wasn’t that bad. I mean, fuck, it was long, and question ten might have fucked me over, too, but otherwise it wasn’t that bad, Eds.”

“Easy for you to say,” Eddie mumbled, face in his hands. “I’d like to see how you felt about that literature essay the other day. Not so _easy peasy_ for you, was it?”

“Hey, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. Mine include humour, good looks and charm, and then a plethora of opinions that I can’t express using topic and linking sentences.”

“Those were all weaknesses, right?”

“Okay, I walked right into that one.”

Eddie smirked, then he groaned again, thinking about having to face their calc teacher again tomorrow. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and shut his locker as they started walking. “You’re just a goddamn math genius, Tozier. Meanwhile, I’m going to fail that class and tank my GPA and drop out of junior year and go to community college and be stuck living with my overbearing mother for the rest of my sad and sorry life.”

“I am genius incarnate, aren’t I?” Richie did a stupid and dramatic bow with a flourish of his arm, pushing the school gate open for Eddie to walk through toward their bikes.

“I take that back. You’re idiot incarnate.”

“But in all seriousness, Eddie Spaghetti—”

“You do realise you just contradicted yourself, right?”

“—why don’t we help each other out with studying? You’re good at English and I’m good at math and we suck at the other subject. We could be, like, each other’s tutors!”

Eddie raised one eyebrow. It wasn’t the worst idea Richie had ever had. He told him as much and Richie grinned.

“Fine,” Eddie said after a minute spent unlocking his bike chain unnecessarily slowly. “But we’re starting with math, because my grades aren’t as high as yours and our next test is in two weeks and I still don’t know how to anti-derive a fucking logarithm.”

“You can’t, idiot, because it uses non-elementary functions, so you have to use integration by recognition or the reverse product rule or something, depending on the question.”

Eddie was certain Richie was speaking a different language. “Product rule?”

“I believe the method is called integration by parts. Did you even look at the formula sheet we were given?”

For the third time in ten minutes, Eddie groaned and buried his face in his hands.

When they ended up at Eddie’s house that weekend after Richie’s shift, two copies of Hamlet open in front of them, Eddie’s academic morale was boosted again. Richie may have had a ton of opinions, but as he’d said the other day, he couldn’t string them together into a coherent essay for shit. Eddie, on the other hand, was all about that fine prose life, so there they were, stomachs on Eddie’s bedroom floor and papers scattered everywhere, trying to write an essay for Richie’s English literature class. They both took the subject but weren’t in the same class, although the English teachers at their school were pretty good at maintaining consistency between the classes, so Eddie’s class was kind of doing the same thing anyway.

Eddie had been talking for about six minutes straight about how individual paragraphs can be coherent without the whole essay necessarily being cohesive and the importance of topic and linking sentences and a strong contention, when he realised Richie’s eyes had glazed over and he was paying less than zero attention to Eddie right now.

“Are you fucking serious, Richie? I’m trying to help you and you’re not even listening,” Eddie huffed.

“’M sorry, Eds, you’re just too cute when you ramble.”

Eddie hoped he wasn’t blushing. It really wouldn’t be helping his case in the slightest if he was.

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, which is saying something. Here, just give me the sheet.” He snatched it off him without waiting for a response, looking down at the practice essay questions. “Let’s do this one,” he decided, pointing to the middle of the page.

Richie took forever to look away from Eddie’s face toward his finger, like it was some kind of hardship to tear his eyes away and focus on their work. Eddie flipped through his own English book to find his notes and quotes list that were relevant to the essay question and laid it in front of Richie.

“Here, read this, it might help get your brain working.”

While Richie pushed his glasses up his nose and scanned the page, Eddie pulled his calculus book out of his backpack, where it’d been living the past few days since Thursday night when they studied together. Because of Richie’s new rehearsal schedule that’d be starting next week, Saturdays were becoming the only days that he had off work when they could study together, because although they definitely needed to keep saving up for his car and their future rent, they also needed to secure themselves at least partial scholarships at college or they weren’t going anywhere.

With Richie spending all his time at school, work or in Eddie’s room studying, Eddie’s spare time was usually spent at Bill’s house, at the library with Ben and Mike, or eating pizza and studying while Richie worked. The Losers weren’t hanging out as a group as much recently, and sure, they could partially attribute that to them simply being busy with schoolwork and extracurriculars, but Eddie had been noticing their group’s tendency to split off in pairs or trios even when they _were_ all hanging out; he and Richie were just as guilty of it as Bill, Mike and Stan or Bev and Ben were. Mike said that he, Stan and Bill went to see Wayne’s World at the Aladdin the other week (because of course Derry’s tiny cinema could never keep up with the number of new films being released and was always several months behind the rest of the world), and Eddie knew Richie had wanted to see that movie, but they’d already made plans for that day – to get ice cream together after Richie’s afternoon shift, and Eddie liked making fun of Richie’s dumb work hat and the fact that his nametag said ‘Richard’ on it. He kind of missed being around all their friends, if he were being honest.

“Are we gonna be doing this all evening?” Eddie asked after several minutes of silence had passed. He hadn’t really been paying attention to his math notes anyway.

Richie looked up from what he was writing. “Uh, I guess? Why? Wanna go do something? I know it can get hard for you when Mrs K and I are constantly groping each other, and that’s not the only hard thing arou—”

“Fucking beep beep!”

Richie sniggered.

“I was _asking,_ ” Eddie cut over him before he could make another stupid joke, “Because I thought we could call the others and go down to the clubhouse or something.”

They called Bill first, because if they could get Bill on board with something, everyone else would be more likely to agree.

“Sh-Shit, Eddie, I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m going out w-w-with Jessica Mayf-field tonight.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows, incredulous. “You’re going on a date?”

“No need to ssssound so surprised.”

Eddie supposed that was fair enough; Bill was tall, handsome, smart, on the football team. It was only a matter of time before he started dating again. For fuck’s sake, he’d been pining after Bev for three years and the rest of them were sort of starting to grow tired with it.

They called Ben next, and he told them that if a few others were willing to tag along, he’d bring board games and soda. Mike declined, saying he had to work on the farm all day tomorrow and needed an early night. It was only 7pm, but whatever. Stan wasn’t allowed to go out late with such little notice, and Eddie could not see him arguing with his parents over their decision.

“Please, Bev. If you come, Ben’ll come and the four of us can play Monopoly or something.” Eddie hated begging. Beverly didn’t need to ask who the four of them were. But she couldn’t come anyway, because she was starting a new job at her aunt’s hair salon on Monday and was having a tour slash trial shift tomorrow.

Eddie put down the phone and huffed back upstairs to find Richie sprawled across his bed, shoes off, comic book in hand.

“What happened to your essay?”

“I gave up.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie knelt down to pack up their notes and books. “That is exactly why you’re not acing the class, Rich.” He glanced down at the papers he was holding, spotting Richie’s nearly illegible scrawl across the page. What he’d written wasn’t half bad, in Eddie’s humble opinion, but if Richie was anything, he was stubborn, so if he said he was done for the day, there was no point trying to persuade him to continue writing.

Eddie plopped down on the bed next to Richie after he put their stuff away, tucking himself into his side so he could see the comic. Richie moved his arm up so Eddie could slide in easily and rest his head on the crook of Richie’s shoulder, their sides pressed together. He then realised the issue Richie was reading was the same one Eddie himself had gotten stuck on months ago, never making it past that double spread of The Death of Superman. He giggled quietly at the memories of that day.

“What?” Richie whisper-asked.

Eddie just shook his head.

“What?” Richie normal-voice-asked.

“Nothing, it’s just… This is what I was reading the day you asked me to run away with you.” He wasn’t sure why he was feeling shy about admitting that. It was a pretty significant day and not unreasonable for him to remember what he was reading at the time.

“Oh,” was the reply he got, and Eddie’s cheeks heated up. Maybe he should have phrased it better. But Richie’s head ducked down and he pressed his face against the top of Eddie’s head, not giving him a dumb kiss, just resting there. Richie exhaled, nuzzled his nose slightly, and Eddie wasn’t sure why but his stomach flipped a little.

“I didn’t get past this page, though,” he whispered after a few moments. “So we can keep going if you want.”

He felt Richie move his face back.

“Okay,” Richie said, turning the page.

* * *

Richie did end up getting the role of Lee in the school play.

Rehearsals started towards the end of September, and Richie quickly made friends in the cast and crew. Emily Whiting from his media class was part of the crew, which was led by none other than Ben, and of course, Tammy Ferris from drama and calculus was a fellow cast member. They rehearsed in drama class and on Wednesday evenings after school, which meant Richie had to change his shifts at the pizza place from Wednesdays to Thursdays; as much as is pained him to not be able to see Eddie as often, it would hurt them both far more in the long run if they couldn’t follow through with their plans due to lack of funds. The cast had rehearsals for four weeks, then a full dress rehearsal the weekend before the show opened in the last week of October.

They were the longest four weeks of Richie’s life.

Today was a Wednesday, and it was the first time they were blocking on the actual stage. The dimensions of the stage were slightly different from the drama room where they usually practised, so there were some adjustments to be made. Richie had just finished blocking a scene and B told him to take a break – maybe he could see how tired Richie looked – so he was sitting on the edge of the stage, off to the side to not distract the other performers.

Richie thought absently about how he would have to pack his bag tonight for everything he had on tomorrow – school, work and Eddie’s. The nights he spent at Eddie’s had to be pushed back to nearly midnight after Richie got off from work, and their Saturdays together were mostly consumed by studying; they barely had any chance to just hang out like normal friends. Richie wasn’t sure if Eddie was seeing any of their other friends on other nights of the week since everyone had been getting busy lately, but he didn’t look nearly as miserable as Richie felt, so he supposed he must have been.

He was jostled out of his thoughts when Emily Whiting sat down next to him, legs dangling off the stage.

“Hey, Richie,” she said. She wasn’t quite touching his side, but their arms brushed when she shifted.

Emily was pretty. She had soft looking brown hair and sparkling green eyes and a cute button nose that Richie kind of wanted to poke, now that he looked at it. They had spoken a few times before in media class, mostly about how much the teacher sucked, because Richie genuinely enjoyed analysing art and taking photos and it was really just the teacher’s attitude that made him dread that class.

“Why hello there. To what do I owe the company of arguably the best photographer at Derry High?”

Emily giggled, leaning into him slightly. “Oh, stop it, that’s not true at all.”

“My apologies – in all of Derry, full stop,” Richie amended. He couldn’t help himself. There was a cute girl sitting next to him, smiling at him, and who was he to not flirt with her?

She beamed at him for a moment longer, before answering his question. “Ben let us off early so I was about to head home, but I saw you sitting here all alone, lost in your own thoughts and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Ah.” Richie wondered what Emily would think if she knew that he was thinking about his best friend in the same way he was sort of thinking about her now. He’d already accepted that he was kind of a freak of nature who liked girls and boys, but acknowledging it himself and thinking about other people finding out was a whole different kettle of fish that Richie did not have the strength to dwell on right now. “I just finished going through some scenes with James and I wanted to continue running lines but he fucked off to see Tammy or something. I’m pretty sure they’re hooking up.”

Emily gawked, bumping her arm against him again. “No! Tammy’s, like, one of my best friends. I would totally know if she was into James.”

Richie shrugged, slipping into one of his vaguely British Voices. “I dunno what to tell ya, Ems, you gotta ask ‘er yerself.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Was that meant to be English or Irish?”

“I have no fucking idea, to be honest.”

Emily laughed loudly, her eyes squinting as she held her stomach. He didn’t blame her; he was a funny guy. B’s booming voice suddenly cut through their conversation.

“Tozier, back on stage, please. We’re running the scene properly this time.”

“Gotta run, Ems. Duty calls,” Richie said with a wink, hopping up and legging it across the stage to the wings.

A week before opening night, Richie was on the phone to Eddie, asking him if he had booked tickets to the show yet.

“They’re fifty cents, Eddie Spaghetti, surely your mom can fork out that much for her son to come support his reason for living.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t come at all,” Eddie shot back, voice tight but amused. “Your ego is obviously far too inflated already.”

Richie just laughed. “Liar.”

“Also,” Eddie continued, “I just asked Bev and she said something about going with Ben as a quote-unquote sort of date. Whatever the hell that means.”

“That little bitch! She didn’t tell me she was finally making the moves on Benny boy! I’m gonna call her as soon as we’re done here. Oh, also Mike told me yesterday that he won’t be able to make it at all. He’s starting a new job at the library and is working after school all fuckin’ week. So I guess it’ll just be you, Big Bill and Staniel. Hey, it’ll be just like the good ol’ days!”

His three oldest friends were, in fact, sitting in the front row on opening night, and it kind of made Richie feel nervous. His palms were starting to sweat as he stood in the wings, the curtain still down, sneaking glances out the corner of the room where he could make out Eddie, Stan and Bill through the gap between the curtain and the wall. Richie took a deep breath when he heard B’s voice over the sound system, instructing the audience not to take photographs of the performance. Richie walked out onto the stage with James Parker and sat at the kitchen countertop set, rolled his shoulders back, as the two took on the personas of the relatively estranged brothers. The audience clapped, the curtain lifted, and Richie lost himself in the performance.

When he met up with his friends after the show, he first saw Bill’s enormous grin from where he was standing slightly in front of Eddie and Stan. Eddie, who was almost bouncing up and down, radiating energy, and Stan, who had one leg popped and his arms folded across his chest, unable to keep the soft, undoubtedly fond smile from crossing his face when he locked eyes with Richie.

Richie grinned back at his friends.

“Guys! Whaddya think of the show?” he all but squealed, spurred on by Bill’s embrace and Eddie’s wide smile that he mirrored over Bill’s shoulder.

“You wwwere amazing, Rich.”

“I fucking loved it!”

“I suppose it was alright.”

The other three boys turned to look at Stanley, a budding staring match about to commence. Then Stan cracked a grin and stepped toward Richie with an arm out.

“I’m just messing with you; I definitely enjoyed it, Richie. You’re a natural.”

“He’s right,” Eddie piped up from behind them, seemed to be eagerly waiting his turn to hug Richie. “You look right at home up there on stage. Although I’ve got no clue how those bright lights don’t utterly destroy your already deteriorating eyesight.”

Richie bit back a grin, smacking his hand against Stan’s back a couple of times in true friend-like fashion. “My eyes work well enough to see the wonders that track is doing for your figure, Eds Spagheds,” he said with a wink. He pointedly ignored the look Stan gave him when he pulled back from their embrace.

Maybe he ought to calm down with the whole complimenting Eddie’s physical appearance thing he’d been on recently. And he definitely didn’t need Eddie’s embarrassed, red-flushed face to add to the list of cute things to tease him about. Richie _was_ trying to stay in the closet, after all.

Still, Richie looped his arms under Eddie’s and lifted him into a tight hug, not listening to the smaller boy’s sound of protest.

“Richie, you’re squishing me.”

“Not my fault you’re so small and cute and squishable.”

“Jesus Christ,” Richie heard Stan mumble under his breath. He ignored him. Stan was a real pain in the ass sometimes. And besides, Bill didn’t seem to notice anything, so he was fine and would continue squishing Eddie all he damn well pleased, _fuck you very much, Stanley_.

Richie did know, however, that he had to get over this stupid crush sooner or later. In a few years, they were going to be _living together_ for god’s sake, he still couldn’t be pining after his best friend then. Richie shoved down the thought of them sharing an apartment, maybe a room, somewhere in New York or wherever the fuck they ended up, pushed those thoughts away and locked them up in the depths of his mind with a padlock and stomped on the key until it shattered and wow, this mental metaphor was getting pretty out of hand.

But, no matter where the feelings were or how deep Richie tried to bury them, they always seemed to resurface. He knew he’d have to take action to get any kind of response from his stupid heart and make any progress with getting over Eddie. He couldn’t keep pining over Eddie forever.

There were several girls in Richie’s classes that could make for decent substitutes to fill the Eddie-sized hole in his brain and heart since he decided to lock those thoughts and feelings away for good. Girls were so much easier to like and pay attention to than Eddie was. Well, Eddie was always easy for Richie to pay attention to, but it was so fucking hard to contain his feelings that he almost always ruined their time together by cracking jokes about his mother or staring at his ass too long. He seriously needed to get a grip.

It was halfway through the week of True West’s run and Richie was bored out of his mind in English class. He sat in the back row between Samantha Nikolaou and some guy who was always wearing a baseball cap on backwards and who borrowed a pen from him once. Richie glanced to his right, sneaking a look at Samantha. Her head was down, concentrating on her work, thick bangs falling over her face. She was popular enough to take extra care with maintaining her appearance and did things like skip class because that was cool, but not so popular that she’d never speak to or look at Richie. She was friends with Tammy from calc and Emily from media. Richie wondered if any of them thought he was attractive as he thought they were.

Actually… he remembered Bev mentioning a while ago that Emily Whiting had a crush on him in freshman year.

Huh.

He had media in sixth period. Maybe he’d try to gauge how Emily felt about him. She did always laugh at his jokes, no matter how lame they were, and they chatted during rehearsal most days. He could sort of see himself dating her or kissing her; she was kind and pretty and a talented photographer after all. For all his talk, Richie Tozier somehow got to sixteen years of age without having kissed anyone. But he’d rather cut off his pinkie finger than admit that to the Losers.

By the time Friday rolled around – True West’s closing night – Richie had gotten literally nowhere with deciphering Emily’s feelings towards him. They had been talking every day in class this week, as well as before and after the show each night, and he’d found that Emily was actually really easy to talk to and they had a lot in common. She took a lot of science and art classes because she was fascinated by the world and liked to express herself and her passion through art. Richie thought that was so cool. And she read comic books! A girl who enjoyed superheroes that wasn’t Bev was a rarity and Richie was sort of starting to _like_ her already.

Right before he went on stage for the last show, Emily squeezed his hand and told him to break a leg, and finally, _finally_ , it was something that indicated her feelings. Richie hated that he blushed a little bit.

There was an afterparty that night for the cast and crew, held at James Parker’s house because he lived down the road from their school. Richie found himself in the kitchen with Ben and Samantha, although he wasn’t sure how she got allowed in because she wasn’t part of the show in any regard. Taking a sip from his cup of fuck knows what, Richie leaned across the table to hear what Ben was saying over the music pumping in from the next room.

“… freaking travesty that The Flash TV show was cancelled! The effects were soooo good! That show started with so much potential and the writers ruined it.” Richie had never seen Ben pout before. He suspected Ben had knocked back a few shots when Richie wasn’t looking. “Rich! Come on, back me up, man,” Ben all but whined.

Richie took a swig from his drink. He’d been taking it slow and was still on his first cup, though it was nearly empty now, and Ben was far more drunk than he was. He had been meaning to ask Ben what he thought of the show when the assistant stage manager took over during his sort-of-date with Bev, and how said date went, but Ben seemed too far gone to remember much of that now. “I’ve gotta say, The Flash’s camera crew fucking sucked, Benny Boy. You couldn’t even see half the good shit that was happening because the lighting was so off!”

Emily was suddenly by Richie’s side; he hadn’t paid much attention to her since they arrived at the party and were dragged off by their respective friends. She looked a little tipsy as she swayed into Richie’s side, but not nearly as wasted as Ben or Samantha were. “Yeah, I thought so, too,” she said. “And all those… those ugly murals in some scenes were way too distracting and made it seem like—like every artistic set decision was made independently and nothing was cohesive at all.” Richie recalled Eddie using the word cohesive to describe an English essay. Emily giggled and continued, “It’s like they tried to copy the, like, atmosphere of Gotham City, but failed hilariously.”

He looked down at Emily. The girl really did know her stuff. About superheroes and set design alike. No wonder Ben liked having her in his crew.

James Parker then stepped into the kitchen with a loud _whoo!_ and swung open the fridge. He took out a plate of jello shots and another six-pack of beer and placed them all on the table in front of them.

“Hanscom, I fucking challenge you to a drink-off,” James declared. “First to three.”

Ben was not one to back down from a drinking game, and clearly James knew this. He finished off his current bottle of beer and grabbed at the new pack. James and Ben clinked their beer glasses and began chugging. Richie watched Ben swallow. He had really grown into himself in the past year or so and was starting to fill out now, being on the track team and taking gym and objectively, yeah, Richie could say he was kind of hot.

More people filed into the kitchen and everyone started yelling “chug, chug, chug!” at Ben and James as they slammed their bottles on the table and started downing another beer. Richie and Emily were betting on Ben, who had not lost a drinking challenge to date, while Samantha and Tammy were at James’ side. Ben finished his second beer before James and quickly grabbed the third, halfway through it by the time James picked his up. Ben slammed his final bottle down on the table and the whole room broke out into a cheer as he threw his hands in the air. Emily had been learning into Richie’s side and she started jumping up and down in celebration, grasping his arm with her other hand in the air, chanting Ben’s name with the rest of the crowd.

‘Whoo! Go Ben!”

She threw her hand around Richie’s neck and hugged him, and he lifted her up with a squeal – Emily’s squeal, not Richie’s, of course, because he only squealed when he picked Eddie up – and when he set her back down, her eyes had gone soft and she was smiling gently up at him. Richie thought for a moment that she wanted to kiss him. He took her hand and walked them out of the kitchen to the living room where people were dancing, right as James slap-shook Ben’s hand and dragged Samantha and Tammy out of the room with him, all of them heading back onto the dance floor.

There was an ACDC song thumping through the speakers and the whole room was buzzing and jumping more than dancing, hands flying everywhere. Richie had the unfortunate luck of being smacked in the face several times by short girls who were waving their limbs about. He and Emily found themselves on the outskirts of the crowd and she immediately started jumping and singing along with everyone else, making Richie smile fondly. Richie then spotted Tammy and James together on the dance floor, hands all over each other, and he shot Emily a knowing look until she glanced over and saw them, too.

Richie smirked. “I hate to say I told you so, but—”

“Oh, can it, Tozier.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, and when he looked down at Emily again, she was dancing a little closer than a few seconds ago. Thunderstruck wasn’t exactly a sexy or romantic song for them to be dancing to, but Emily was grinning up at him and her soft hair was shining under the light filtering through from the kitchen, and maybe it was the alcohol making him move, but Richie barely thought twice when he leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm and a little tingly from the mixed drink she had earlier, and her hands immediately came up to rest on his shoulders. It was over in a few seconds, but when Richie pulled back and opened his eyes, he saw her shy expression and soft little smile as she stared at his lips and he grinned back, swooping back down for another kiss.

It was almost surprising how good it felt to kiss Emily. He wasn’t sure why he thought it wouldn’t be – he fucking loved girls, after all, and Emily was such a kind friend and undeniably pretty and Richie wondered why it had taken him so long to find a girl he was interested in dating. Except, he knew exactly why, but he really didn’t want to be thinking about his best friend’s stupid shorts or adorable blush when he had a girl who was just as cute and actually interested pressed against him under the soft light and loud music of house party that Eddie wasn’t even at, so Richie definitely shouldn’t have been thinking about him.

When he pulled back again, Emily was still smiling at him, and a soft blush had crept up on her cheeks; whether from the heat of the bodies around them or the kiss they just shared, it wasn’t clear, but Richie suspected it was a bit of both. He pushed his glasses up from where they had started to slip down his nose and rested his forehead against Emily’s. The heavy song ended, and something from The Offspring’s new album started playing. Someone was quick at making mixtapes. Richie didn’t really know the song, but it was a damn sight quieter than Thunderstruck. The crowd dissipated slightly, some people plopping themselves on the couches and chairs strewn around the room, some heading back into the kitchen, but Richie and Emily remained on the dance floor.

“Go out with me?” he mumbled, close enough to her face that she could hear him over the music.

He felt Emily’s small hands grip his own and he opened his eyes, meeting her fond gaze.

“Yeah,” she breathed, leaning up to kiss him again.

Richie’s heart fluttered in his chest and he told it to shut the fuck up. Finally, at sixteen fucking years old, the infamous Trashmouth found himself a girlfriend. Took him long enough. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. Well, a reputation known to all of six people. One of whom was the exact reason, as much as Richie disliked thinking about it, that it had in fact taken so long. It shouldn’t have taken so long, he tried to reason with himself, because he did fucking love girls. He just also fucking loved Eddie and—

Shit.

He _loved_ him, didn’t he?

Fuck his life, honestly.

That would be a lot harder to get over than a stupid little crush.

As Richie wrapped his arms around Emily’s waist and pulled her soft body against his, he tried to drown himself in the smell of perfume and cheap alcohol and sweaty teenagers, anything to keep his godforsaken mind from drifting off to thoughts of that small but angry friend of his that he adored.

Emily was lovely and clever and beautiful and Richie liked her, he really did, but she wasn’t Eddie. He stamped out that line of thinking as soon as the thought came to mind – he could not spend the rest of his life comparing people to Eddie. Emily didn’t deserve that, no one deserved that. Emily was talented and funny and was currently snaking her arms around his neck, was currently cupping the back on his head and was currently swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. Emily _liked_ him. And if the fluttering of his heart and the tightening of his jeans when Emily’s fingers found their way into his hair were anything to go by, Richie definitely liked her, too.

Right now, all his thoughts about Eddie could go fuck themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe can you tell I’m a math major? Also holy shit this chapter’s length got waaay out of hand I’m so sorry. I've decided to try to limit myself to 10k word chapters (approximately *cough cough* ch6 is 12k oops)
> 
> ALSO come hang with me on tumblr @bowtiescarves


	5. Richie didn't know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November - December 1992. Richie buys a car. Eddie has several jealous moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 9k and then I decided I had to add a bunch more stuff and now it’s 10.2k oops. Also happy new year everyone! Way to kick off the year with some dumbass jealous Eddie ;)

It ended up taking five months of vigilant saving for Richie to buy a car. It was a piece of shit car, there was no denying it, but a beat-up old green truck with rust and chipped paint and two flat tires was still a car and could still get Richie and Eddie the fuck out of Derry in a few years. There was probably some internal damage as well, which was why it only cost a few thousand dollars – and if Richie had to borrow his parents’ emergency credit card that they forgot they once told him he could use to cover the remainder of the cost, no one needed to know.

Richie was on the phone to Mike, asking if he had the good shit to fix up a car in this condition. The tools or equipment or whatever the hell was needed to work on a project like this. Richie didn’t know. Richie knew comedy and acting and math and that was about it. Mike agreed to come over on the weekend, said he’d try to bring Ben and Bill with him and between the four of them, they should be able to fix up most of the car before school on Monday. It’d be a nice surprise to pick Eddie up for school in his new ride.

Finding two new tires was easy enough, and Bill had borrowed some money from his parents (Richie promised he’d pay him back) so they could also buy some paint to touch up the chipped areas. They also agreed to pick up some oil in case it needed topping up, as well as the water for the engine and air conditioner. It was just the rust that proved to be an issue.

“We have to get a primer to put down first, then sand it off and put wax or grease on it, before we can top it off with the paint,” Mike was saying. Richie was nodding along.

“Let’s head down to the auto shop now then,” Ben suggested. He’d brought along a book from when he and Mike had been hanging out at the library that morning, which Richie now had open in front of him. He didn’t really know what he was reading, but he wasn’t about to ask his friends for help and then not chip in in some way, so learn he would.

By the time they biked back to Richie’s house with all the necessary supplies in their backpacks, it was mid-afternoon. Bill offered to go inside with Richie to grab some drinks and snacks while Mike and Ben sorted everything out outside.

“Sh-sh-should I bring the Coke or Coke Z-Zero?” Bill asked from where he was bent down in front of the fridge.

“Just the regular Coke,” Richie replied. “The Coke Zeros are for Eddie because that motherfucker only drinks sugarless soda.” When he closed the cupboard and turned to Bill, arms full of Cheetos and Doritos, Bill was staring at him. “What?”

Bill immediately shut the fridge, four Coke cans in hand, and started walking back to the front door. “Nothing,” he said. Richie raised an eyebrow but didn’t dwell on it too much as he followed him out.

Mike had the can of paint open and was stirring the paintbrush around in it aimlessly, chatting to Ben, who was sitting on the back of the truck, whose eyes widened when he saw when Bill and Richie had acquired.

“Guuuys,” Ben drawled. “I’m trying to stop eating all that crap. Do you have any diet soda or something?”

“Nah, sorry, man,” Richie said with a shrug, not responding to Bill’s not so subtle stare. “We’ve got juice and low-fat milk if you want? My mom drinks that shit. Or I can grab you a glass of water.” Ben went with water.

Once they got working on the car, Richie found no time or need to snack on the food they’d gathered. He was far more interested in watching Mike and Ben scour away at the rusty areas and Bill’s steady hand repainting where there were chipped or scraped spots. Richie had his head under the bonnet of the car, absently scrubbing the grease around the engine as he watched his friends work. He really fucking loved his friends sometimes. He’d have to put aside some money from his next paycheck to get them all something for giving up half their weekend to help him out.

By the time the sun was setting on that cool Saturday evening, most of the work on the car had been done. Turned out it wasn’t such a piece of shit after all, Mike had said sometime that day – it just looked run down and needed an oil change and water top-up, so the previous owners must not have had that much knowledge about cars if they were selling it for so cheap, thinking it was broken. He said Richie had gotten pretty lucky. Mike was currently inspecting Bill’s handiwork, and when he seemed pleased with what he saw, he turned to Richie.

“She’s looking good, Rich,” Mike declared, running his hand along the body of the car. “I might come back over tomorrow and make sure the rust is all dealt with. We wouldn’t want it getting worse just 'cause we did a shit job patching it up. I’ll see what my grandfather has lying around the place that could help. Maybe even polish her up a little and sand down the new paint to get it all smooth.”

Richie could have kissed Mike.

“What are y-you gonna name her?” Bill asked through a mouthful of chips.

“Name it Eddie,” Ben joked.

“I’d rather name it Mrs K, Benny Boy, since she’s the one I wanna be riding.”

“That physically makes no sense, Richie.”

“How come you wanted to get a car so suddenly?” Mike piped up from the other side of the car, effectively ending the conversation on the car’s name.

Richie shrugged in response to Mike’s question, attempting to seem nonchalant. “Cause I could? One less thing I have to rely on my parents for, I guess.”

His friends seemed to buy it, and he kind of felt bad for all the little white lies he’d been telling today, but it had to be done. His plan to run away with Eddie had to remain a secret for a year and a half longer, and if he started talking about it with their friends now, it just increased the chance of the truth getting out to Sonia, Maggie and Went, and that would certainly throw a spanner in the works. No, their friends could never know about their plan, as much as it pained Richie to keep such a huge secret from them. It had to be done.

Richie pulled up at Eddie’s front door on Monday morning at 7:30, waiting patiently for his best friend to come outside to head to school. He’d dragged himself out of bed extra early that morning and his eyes were starting to droop a little. Richie grabbed his Red Bull can from the console and took a long sip. It would be worth it, waking up so much earlier, because he’d get to spend more time with Eddie and they could listen to the new mixtapes Richie had been working on for a few weeks in between school and work. He had made sure to put some of Eddie’s favourite songs on there as well, not just ones they both liked, because even if Richie wasn’t overly fond of Wham! or Bonnie Tyler, if Eddie liked it and it made Eddie happy to listen to it, then that was good enough for Richie.

At 7:39, the front door of the Kaspbrak residence opened, and Eddie stepped out. He had on a navy blue scarf and matching beanie, even though it wasn’t that cold out just yet, and a rather sour expression on his face. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and huffed, brows knitting together when he spotted the strange car on the curb. His expression morphed from confused to utterly delighted when he saw Richie waving at him in the car, a wide grin spreading across his face in an instant, and it warmed Richie’s heart.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” he called out, beckoning him over.

Eddie ran down the front steps and across the driveway to Richie’s car, eyes bulging out of his face. “Richie, oh my god, you got a car!” He was so cute when he was excited.

“Hell yeah, I did. C’mon, hop in before you freeze to death and Mrs. K never lets me over again ‘cause I was responsible for her son’s demise,” Richie teased, grinning at the annoyed quiver of Eddie’s lip.

Richie popped in the mixtape as soon as Eddie was buckled in. Eddie yanked his beanie off and threw it in the back of Richie’s car and then started unwrapping his scarf. “Honestly, fuck my mom and her stupid weather rules. Today is a warm fucking day for November but I still have to wear these stupid extra layers or she’ll threaten to take me to the doctor after school in case I caught a cold.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear anything after ‘fuck my mom’, 'cause you know I’m always down—”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie snapped, but Richie could hear not a single ounce of venom in his voice. Richie sniggered. He watched Eddie fling his scarf over his shoulder into the backseat along with the beanie.

“Are you sure you’re the real Eddie Kaspbrak? You’re making a freakin’ mess of my brand spankin’ new ride.”

Eddie huffed a little. “I thought you’d be happy that I’m letting loose a little.”

Richie laughed at that. “The only loose thing in your house is y—okay, okay! Stop fucking hitting me! I’ll stop!” Eddie was aggressively smacking his arm. “Still. You call throwing clothes on the floor ‘letting loose’. You’re hilarious, Eds.” He snuck a glance at Eddie’s adorable pout, heard him mutter “don’t call me that” under his breath. Richie couldn’t stop smiling.

He realised he hadn’t turned on the radio, so the mixtape had been playing without the car speakers being on. He cursed under his breath. When they stopped at a red light on the main road, Richie looked down at the console. He located the correct buttons and switched on the radio. Prince’s voice came through the speakers and Richie immediately started singing along.

“ _Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with, I just want your extra time and your_ —” He made kissy noises and shimmied his shoulders as he leaned across towards Eddie, “— _kiss_!”

“You’re so stupid and gross and I hate you,” Eddie deadpanned, but the wide, gentle smile on his face said otherwise.

Richie picked Eddie up and dropped him home from school quite happily and peacefully for about a week. They listened to Nirvana and Whitney Houston and Bruce Springsteen and even when the single Led Zeppelin track Richie snuck onto the tape came on, Eddie didn’t complain, and it wasn’t even Stairway To Heaven.

(Richie was certain that Eddie didn’t actually mind the heavier or weirder music Richie liked to listen to sometimes, no matter how thoroughly he objected whenever Richie and one of the others put it on the jukebox at the diner and sang loudly.)

It was nearly Thanksgiving break, and Richie was in the middle of teasing Eddie for wearing four layers to school as they pulled into the parking lot, when he stopped mid-sentence upon spotting Emily waiting for him by the school gate. Richie took a deep breath.

He and Emily hadn’t spoken much since Richie bought his car and was spending more time with Eddie again. They’d been hanging out briefly after school a few days a week since the show ended, usually making out but sometimes just sitting and talking. Richie even convinced her to try a cigarette one time, but that didn’t go too well. But Richie had skipped media class three out of the five days last week because Bev was having a hard time with her geometry class and wanted his help so they’d been sneaking out to smoke together (Eddie and Stan were not pleased that they were skipping class in an attempt to catch up on said class' content, said something about that being counterintuitive), and Emily had been sick on Friday, so it really had been a whole week since they’d spoken to each other.

The only problem with her being here right now was that Eddie had no idea that Richie was sort of dating anyone. He wasn’t sure why that made him so nervous. Eddie wouldn’t care. Bill was dating Jessica and Mike just started seeing some girl called Cassie Hayles who worked at the library with him and it was totally normal for boys their age to be spending time with girls and Eddie had never said anything about Bill and Jess or Mike and Cassie or even Ben and Bev, who were still kind of dating. Richie had no business feeling this nervous. The whole point of him thinking about getting a girlfriend in the first place was to try to get over his stupid crush on Eddie, and it turned out that he actually really liked hanging out with Emily, and he was sort of dating her now, and that was normal, and Eddie wouldn’t mind, and Richie shouldn’t have felt this fucking nervous.

But his thumping heart and twisting stomach and sweaty palms seemed to suggest otherwise.

Emily was standing right in front of the spot where Richie usually parked, her hands shoved into her coat pockets as she shifted on the spot, probably to keep warm. Then Eddie was turning to him with a questioning look on his face, and Richie panicked. He parked the car, killed the engine, and before Eddie could say anything, Richie threw himself out the door. Emily stepped over to him and he flashed her a smile.

“Hey, Richie,” she greeted him, eyes darting over to where Eddie was still in the passenger seat. “I haven’t seen you for a few days. I didn’t even know you got a car until Samantha told me you and Eddie were talking about it in math class yesterday. How come you didn’t tell me? I could’ve used a lift this morning, to be honest.” She chuckled and gestured to their wet surroundings, shuffling her feet slightly.

“Yep, got this baby last weekend.” He slapped his hand against the bonnet. “A fucking steal, it was. Fixed it up in a couple of days with the guys and voilà! I am finally independently mobile. It’s like I’m a new man, Ems. As for the last few days…” He trailed off when heard the car door shut, Eddie’s feet crunching on the concrete as he walked, slowly, around the side of the car. “Can we talk about that later?” Richie asked, dropping his voice a little. Emily was now watching Eddie move. She almost looked suspicious, but maybe that was just Richie being paranoid.

“Sure,” she said easily, reaching down to grab his hand. “Let’s get to class.”

Emily dragged him away towards the main school building, clearly eager to get out of the cold. Richie let himself be dragged. He spared a glance over his shoulder to see Eddie still standing near his car, watching them, confused, and Richie’s heart broke a little.

They didn’t speak about it at recess, in calc or at lunch (and Richie may or may not have skipped sixth period media to avoid talking to Emily as well – he would happily put off dealing with his emotions for as long as possible), and part of him wondered if maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe Eddie didn’t care if Richie had a sort-of-girlfriend that he didn’t tell him about. Mike hadn’t even mentioned that he was interested in a girl at all until weeks after he’d started dating Cassie. Maybe Eddie didn’t care or didn’t mind that Richie hadn’t told him. Richie thought he’d be mad though, because they had always told each other everything that was going on in their lives, and this seemed like a pretty significant thing to talk about with one’s best friend.

It was during the drive home that Eddie finally brought it up.

“Who was that girl this morning?” he asked, voice croaky because they’d been driving in silence for ten minutes, save for the soft music of Richie’s mixtape filtering through the speakers. They were nearly at Eddie’s house by this point.

Richie swallowed. “Uh, that was Emily, my—um, friend from media. She was a crew member of the play, too.” He wasn’t lying, exactly, but he was obviously keeping the fact that Emily was a friend with whom he spent two weeks making out against the photography room door for twenty minutes after class.

Eddie was quiet for a few moments. “Friend? Not… not girlfriend?”

Not taking his eyes off the road, Richie’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He wanted to brush it off, to just crack a joke and move on because that’s what Richie did when he felt uncomfortable or things were getting too serious or too tense and he was showing too much emotion. He didn’t owe Eddie jack shit. He didn’t have to tell him about Emily, about them kissing after school or how much flirting they’d done during rehearsal or how Richie sometimes wanted to call her when he was lonely on the weekend.

But he found that he wanted to anyway.

Eddie was probably the most important person in the world to Richie and he wanted to share this part of his life with him.

“I… don’t know. Kinda? And anyway, your mom is the only woman I need in my life. Her sweet, sweet lovin’ on the daily is more than enough to satisfy my highly strung teenage libido. So that makes Emily my side chick.”

There. He got his jokes in and he told Eddie the truth. But he still didn’t feel any better.

Eddie shifted in his seat, so slightly that Richie wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t attuned to Eddie’s every move right at that moment. They pulled up in front of the Kaspbrak residence and looking at the clock, Richie knew they had about six minutes before Mrs. K would start wondering where her son was and he’d get slandered if he entered the house any later than that.

Eddie was staring out the window, looking at a tree or a puddle or something, anywhere but at Richie. Richie tried to reason with himself; Eddie must have been feeling weird about it because he and Richie were so close, and Richie had kept this from him. That was the only explanation that made sense.

“We make out sometimes,” Richie confessed. “I-I like her. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Slowly, Eddie turned to face Richie, looking a little confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“I-I don’t know?” Richie ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, Eds, you know I’m useless at this stuff. She’s not my girlfriend because we haven’t talked about it because I don’t fucking know how to talk about it. And I don’t know why I didn’t tell you and I don’t know why I’m sorry, either.”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft when he finally turned to face Richie full on and placed his hand on top of Richie’s bouncing leg. “Stop talking for once in your damn life, Rich. It’s fine, I told you. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? It’s not like we have to talk about _everything_ that we do when we’re not together.”

Richie dropped his other hand where it was still resting on the wheel – it fell on top of Eddie’s and Eddie turned his palm upwards to hold Richie’s hand, thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles. It was such a small gesture, but it felt like the weight that had been crushing Richie’s chest was finally lifted, and he linked his fingers with Eddie’s, gently squeezing.

“You’re the best, Eds.” Richie cleared his throat, throwing a grin on his face. “Now come on, get your cute little ass into that house before your mom comes out. Cause if she sees you here with me, she’s gonna be so jealous—”

Eddie was out of the car in a second and the door slammed behind him. Richie laughed as Eddie spun around and flipped him off with a cheeky grin.

He watched his friend walk to the front door, cursing himself for mentioning the cuteness of his ass again, but then Eddie turned back to Richie with one hand on the doorknob and saluted, a gesture Richie often used that hadn’t quite caught on with the rest of the group except Beverly. It warmed Richie’s heart and he blew an exaggerated kiss to Eddie, completely missing how Eddie blushed as he went inside.

When he got home, Richie peaked into the lounge room, saw his mother asleep on the couch, and considered walking straight past to the phone. He stood at the entrance to the living room for several seconds, contemplating, before ultimately deciding to go in. Picking up the blanket that had fallen to the floor, Richie tucked it underneath his mom’s chin and laid it over her body. He watched her, sound asleep or more likely passed out, giving a sigh before leaving the room.

Richie walked over to the phone, picked it up, stared at the buttons a little. Emily had given him her phone number nearly two weeks ago now, and he still had yet to actually call her. Maybe that was her way of telling him she wanted to take the next step in their relationship and become an official couple. Richie didn’t know why that thought made his heart race a little. He dialled.

“Hello, Whiting residence, Emily speaking.”

“Ems! It’s ya boy, Richie Tozier, at your service.” He was going to bow dramatically, but then realised she couldn’t actually see him, so he refrained.

Emily gasped. “Richie! You finally called.” She sounded excited, and Richie grinned. Emily put on a rather accurate English accent when she spoke again, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He chuckled at that. It seemed he was starting to rub off on her. He tended to have that effect on people sometimes. “I, uh, are you home? I wanna see you.”

“You skipped our class today, silly. You could have seen me then.”

“Yeah, well, I had shit to do and media is easy as fuck, so…”

“Sure, of course you can come over.”

After taking down her address and getting dressed for work, Richie hopped in his car and drove to Emily’s house. It was luckily somewhat on his way to work, so he maybe had half an hour to spend before he had to rush off to Domino’s.

Emily answered the door quickly.

“Hey!” She was smiling brightly at him and Richie’s stomach did a flip. “Come in, come in.”

“Can’t stay for long, darlin’, as my place of employment will be expecting me shortly,” Richie told her as they walked into the front room. They passed through the kitchen, cabinets painted a dark green that kind of matched Richie’s car. 

Emily took him down the hall to presumably her bedroom. “Don’t mind the mess,” she said. She had to be joking. Her room was almost as clean as Stan’s, except for a few papers scattered on the desk and two items of clothing laid out on the canopy bed. She even had a pot plant with flowers on the windowsill. Emily sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at Richie expectantly.

He joined her, hesitated for a second, and then leaned in slowly. She responded instantly, kissing him back and running her hands up his arms to his shoulders. When he pulled away, lopsided smile on his face, Richie let out a sigh.

“Wow,” he breathed and Emily giggled, flashing him a soft smile.

“You’re really good at that,” she said, biting her lip as she looked down and took his hands in hers. Her pale skin was soft and her fingers small, much smaller than Richie’s, and he brought one hand up to press a kiss to it.

“I do my best,” he replied with a wink.

Emily smiled and inhaled. “You always smell like pepperoni.”

“That’d be the pepperoni I nick from work all the time.”

“Why don’t you eat before you go to work if you get hungry?”

“Nah, too much effort. Besides, it’s free, and I can snack away to my big ol’ heart’s content.”

Emily shifted to face him and leaned slightly closer. “Surely your boss isn’t too keen on that,” she said quietly, eyes darting down to Richie’s lips.

He watched her movements and mirrored them, turning his body and dragging the tips of his fingers across her jean-clad knee. His nose bumped against hers. “Mmm, what he don’t know can’t hurt him.”

When Richie kissed her this time, she let out a very soft, whiny breath, and it caused something in his lower abdomen to squirm pleasantly. She leaned further into him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and for a moment, Richie thought she was going to crawl into his lap. He would not be opposed to it if she did. But she didn’t, and he pulled back again after what was probably just a few minutes, rested his forehead against hers. 

“Doesn’t,” Emily said.

“Hm?”

“What he _doesn’t_ know can’t hurt him.”

Richie laughed, dropping his chin and shaking his head. He bit his lip and held her hands again. “I, uh… I actually wanted to ask you something.”

Emily moved back to look at him properly and Richie was suddenly nervous again, shifting where he sat as his stomach swooped when she didn’t say anything instantly, and the mood shifted, too.

“What’s up?” she said after a moment.

Richie took a deep breath. “Are… are we dating?”

When Emily then didn’t respond for a few seconds, Richie considered running out of the house to his car and driving into the quarry. Emotions really weren’t his strong suit and he’d been experiencing them far too much today with Eddie already. Emily then halted his worries when she started speaking.

“Well, you haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend,” she began, “So, I guess not? Why do you ask? Do… do you want to?”

Richie didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Initially, sure, he’d wanted to get over his stupid crush on his stupid best friend, but this wasn’t about Eddie anymore. This was about Richie growing the fuck up and not letting his friends’ opinions affect how he lived his goddamn life, no matter how important they were to him. He could have a best friend _and_ a girlfriend and love them both and spend time with them both and not have to feel like he was choosing sides. And Richie really liked this girl and he was allowed to be happy, goddamnit.

He must have been silent, staring at her for a few seconds too long, because Emily spoke up again.

“W-We don’t have to. I mean, I like you and all, and I really like kissing you, obviously, but we don’t have to—”

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend, Emily?”

She let out a short, shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

He beamed.

Richie Tozier had a girlfriend, everybody.

* * *

Eddie had been dropping hints to his mom about getting a job over the summer for a good two months since he figured he wouldn’t be able to ask her outright and decided to sow the seed early. He knew she would go on and on about it not being safe or how he wouldn’t have enough time for her or that he couldn’t get distracted from his studies because _the universities in Maine are good schools, Eddie-bear, they’re not going to accept just anybody, so you have to get good grades_.

He was getting good grades. He was getting great grades. And with Richie helping him with math and with Bill and Ben encouraging him in gym, Eddie was finally feeling good about his school life. If he could just get his mom to let him work, he would have the perfect setup for when he graduated. He countered her college argument with the fact that he had to learn how to deal with the so called ‘pressure’ of having a part-time job if he were ever going to succeed at college. He would smile and hold his hands behind his back and kiss her on the cheek and call her mommy like the good little son she wanted him to be. Hey, he had learned a thing or two about manipulation from his mother dearest. He wasn’t proud of it sometimes, but he did what he had to do to survive living with the insufferable woman.

Apparently Sonia _had_ been picking up on these hints because when he arrived home from school the day before Thanksgiving break, she was not watching television in the lounge room, but standing by the phone.

“Eddie,” she began, not one to indulge in small talk or ask how his day was, “I’ve just been speaking to my friend Linda. You know Linda?” Eddie did not, but he nodded anyway. “I’ve mentioned her before. She moved to town a few years ago and owns a hair salon. It’s where I’ve been going recently to get my perm. She said she’s looking for an assistant to help her clean every day. I told her you can do it over Thanksgiving and Christmas, but not every day, of course, because you’ll still have to spend time with your mommy. You’ll still find time to spend with your mommy, right, Eddie-bear?”

Eddie kind of wanted to slap her, but she did just get him a job, so he supposed he could keep his mouth shut and agree with her this once. "Of course, Ma. I would love to help clean. It’s what I do best and I learned it all from you.”

This seemed to please her. “You start tomorrow. Make sure you always wear gloves and goggles, Eddie. There will be hair bleach and other very dangerous chemicals that I don’t want you touching. You could get very sick if you inhale bleach and we wouldn’t want you to miss out on your track meet in a few weeks because you’re sick, now would we?”

Eddie really wanted to slap her. He wondered if the reason she was allowing him to take this job was that she secretly hoped he would actually get sick and would miss his track events and have to skip school and then his grades would drop and he would end up at the University of Maine like she wanted because nowhere else would accept him. Eddie fucking hated his mother sometimes.

As it so happened, much to Eddie’s delight, his mom’s friend Linda was actually Beverly’s aunt. He thanked a God he didn’t believe in that, although she was separated, Linda had kept her married name, because Sonia would have surely burst a blood vessel if she found out she was friends with and her son was working for the Marsh family.

Linda worked six days a week to support Bev and herself in their new home in Derry, and Eddie felt so happy that Bev was living with such a wonderful woman. The salon was open over Thanksgiving break, including the holiday itself, because Linda was a single, working aunt with a teenage niece to provide for, and Beverly, being the kind soul she was, was working on Thanksgiving Day so that Eddie didn’t have to. There were two female hairdressers that worked for Linda. One of them, Melissa, was several years older than Eddie, and the other was Sandy, a senior at Derry High. Eddie recognised Sandy. He supposed she and Bev must have hung out sometime.

Eddie’s first shift consisted of answering the phone, writing down appointments and sweeping locks of hair off the floor. He did that for five hours straight and his back was killing him from bending over so much, but he could hardly complain – a few extra dollars here and there toward the getaway fund would be of great help. His shift ended at 5pm when the salon closed, and Linda showed him how to lock up and where to keep the keys. She told him he would be paid after his four remaining shifts, right at the end of Thanksgiving break. His mom was still giving him an allowance, however, so when Eddie’s stomach growled at him for not feeding it all day, he found himself standing outside Domino’s Pizza.

Richie was working all day every day this week. He had dropped a copy of his holiday schedule in Eddie’s mailbox in case Eddie wanted to come to visit him while he was working. Eddie was only there now to inform Richie that he had a job, not to see him because he missed his dumb face, because that was Emily’s job now, apparently.

Eddie hated the part of himself that was jealous of Emily. Bill had a girlfriend and Eddie wasn’t jealous. Mike had a girlfriend and Eddie wasn’t jealous. Ben and Beverly were sort of dating and Eddie wasn’t jealous of either of them. So why in the fuck did Richie’s girlfriend have to be any different? Eddie was so over his crush on his best friend, had been for a while now, and no stupid girl was going to change that.

The bell rang as Eddie entered the store and his heart thumped loudly when Richie glanced up, a wide grin breaking out on his face the instant he locked eyes with Eddie.

“Spaghetti!” Richie vaulted over the counter and rushed up to him and that was surely against health and safety codes, but Eddie found himself grinning back regardless. Richie was so cute when he was excited. He flung his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezed his body so tightly that Eddie thought he was going to break a few ribs.

“Ri-ichie, please st-stop,” he grumbled into his shoulder.

“Sorry, Eds, I just haven’t been getting my Kaspbrak fill lately, and since your mom’s not here, squishing you will have to do.”

“One: don’t call me Eds. Two: you should shut the hell up before I superglue your lips together.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I just came to tell you that I got a job at Bev’s aunt’s hair salon for the holidays.”

Richie threw his hands in the air. “Eds! That’s fantastic news! See, I always knew your compulsive need to brush my hair would pay off. You’re gonna be a regular Oribe Canales.”

“I’m not even a hairdresser. I just do cleaning and admin stuff.”

“Admin shmadmin,” Richie scoffed. “You’ll be working your way up the ranks in no time at all.”

“That is literally not how it works. And it’s only for five days, and then maybe over Christmas, and then maybe next summer. The most important thing is that now I can contribute to our savings.”

 _Our savings_. Eddie didn’t want to think about how that phrasing made his heart race.

“I’m hungry,” he said quickly, interrupting whatever nonsense was about to come out of Richie’s mouth.

“Well, Mr. K, you’ve come to the right place! What can I getcha? The usual garlic bread and vanilla milkshake or perhaps a small garlic pizza and Pepsi Max?”

“Pizza and Pepsi. Thanks, Rich.”

“Richard! Get your ass back behind the counter and serve these people!” An older man who was clearly Richie’s manager was standing in the doorway to the back area of the shop, hands on his hips, looking not so pleased with Richie and Eddie. There were a couple of younger teenagers hanging around by the register.

“Shit, gotta run, Eds. I’ll put your order through after I deal with these brats.”

Eddie took a seat at his usual table and shrugged off his coat. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table, drew a dick, knowing that Richie’s twelve year old brain would find it amusing, and left it folded under the menus for Richie to discover later.

When Richie’s shift ended an hour or so later, he slipped into the seat across from Eddie, munching on a few pieces of pepperoni. Apparently he was serious when he said he’d snack on toppings constantly. Eddie found that a bit disgusting; Richie should have at least put his food on a plate or a napkin.

“Your eating habits will have to improve significantly if we’re going to be living together in New York,” Eddie said, staring pointedly at Richie’s hands, greasy from holding the pepperoni. “And stop fucking chomping. Do you not know how to eat like a civilised human?”

“Tell me about your first day at work, Eds.” Richie was clearly trying to change the subject, but he did start chewing with his mouth closed, so Eddie couldn’t really scold him too much. So he told him about his day, the people he met, and they laughed about the fact that Sonia Kaspbrak was friends with Linda not-Marsh without even knowing. When Richie’s stomach started making noises, Eddie pushed his pizza box across the table, offering his friend the last slice. Richie shook his head and pushed the box back.

“I can’t take your dinner, Spaghetti Head. How are you gonna grow into a big strong lad if you don’t eat?”

“Fuck off, I’m just as strong as you now. You don’t do anything physically taxing except ride your bike, and now that you have a car, you hardly even do that.”

“I—"

“Playing video games doesn’t count,” Eddie cut him off, sliding Richie the pizza again.

“Hey, I take great offence to that! Have you seen how much I sweat when I play Street Fighter? I take that shit seriously. And I don’t recall _you_ climbing up my house to my bedroom every single week. The things I do to spend time with my Spaghetti, and he doesn’t even appreciate the hard work.” Richie held his hand over his chest with a mock-hurt expression. “I take back everything I ever said about you being cute. You suck, and I’m gonna run off with Staniel now.”

He got up, taking a huge bite out of the last slice of pizza and shoved the rest into Eddie’s face.

Eddie shrieked. “Get the fuck away from me! Ugh, Richie, you’re disgusting.” He snatched the half-slice and threw it at Richie’s face, leaving a grease mark on one side of his glasses. Richie’s jaw dropped with amusement as the pizza flopped to the floor.

“Oh my god, Eds, you threw food!”

Before Eddie even realised what was happening, Richie had bent down and picked up the offending piece of pizza from the floor, the filthy, restaurant floor, and threw it back at Eddie. Then he bolted from the store and booked it around the corner.

“Fucking—Richie!”

Eddie grabbed his coat and ran after him, napkin dick long forgotten. The cold air was beating against his face, but Eddie was used to running in these conditions by now. Richie, on the other hand, was fucking useless at running, and Eddie’s three months on the track team had done him well, so he caught up to Richie very quickly. He was still smaller than him, though, so he jumped on Richie’s back with a shout and Richie yelped.

“Gotcha!” Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist and his arms around his shoulders. Richie was not, in fact, very strong, so he slowed down considerably with Eddie’s weight on his back.

They stopped walking, only about a street over from the pizza place, and Richie had looped his arms under Eddie’s legs to secure him. Richie slipped into one of those vaguely British accents – Eddie would guess English. “We have arrived at our destination, Mr. K. Welcome back to the Toz-mobile.”

Eddie giggled, pressed his nose against the side of Richie’s head. “You’ve got to work on that Voice, Rich, it’s terrible.”

“Zip it, Kaspbrak, I’m giving you a ride.”

“I’ll take my chances walking, thanks.” He tapped Richie’s arm as a signal to be put down.

“And catch a cold? Your mom’ll have kittens. Ooh, could I keep one?”

Eddie leaned against the side of the car and considered him for a moment. “If I caught a cold because you didn’t drive me home, that’d be the only pussy you’d be getting from my mother ever again.”

Richie’s eyes widened comically. “Whoa! Eds Spagheds gets off a good one!” He engulfed Eddie in another crushing hug. “I am so, so proud of how far you’ve come, Eddie my love.”

He pressed a cold, sloppy kiss to Eddie temple before releasing him to walk around to the driver’s side. Eddie wiped his face and begrudgingly got into the car, letting Richie drive him home. He really did not want to catch a cold, especially when he had four full days of work ahead of him. He supposed he would let Richie have this one.

Thanksgiving break was over quicker than Eddie would have liked. He had been enjoying not having to study every single day if he didn’t want to, having time to sleep in and talk to Bill on the phone and read books with Mike and throw food at Richie. He’d gone to the quarry with Bill and Stan and finally taken Richie to see Wayne’s World at the Aladdin on the last day it was showing. He’d studied with Ben in the library and bought Richie a new comic because he found a dollar on the ground and the bookstore just got a new shipment and he’d felt like spoiling Richie that day. He’d enjoyed spending time with Bev at the salon, getting to know Melissa and Sandy and finding that it was really nice to be around girls who were normal and didn’t spend every waking moment obsessing over their looks and talking about boobs like Samantha and Tammy, or even Richie. It was nice, Eddie found, working at the salon, having a part of his life that did not involve his stupid best friend.

On the last day of the break, Eddie was hanging out with Bill and Stan at Domino’s while Richie was working. Bill and Stan were sitting together across from Eddie. The three of them were sharing a large pizza with the lot minus pork, and Eddie was in the middle of picking olives off his slice when Richie slipped into the booth next to him.

“Guess what, fellas?” he asked, reaching over to grab a few olive pieces from the napkin at Eddie’s side and popped them in his mouth. Eddie gagged a little.

Stan was the one who answered. “Your boss realised what a deadweight you were and fired you?”

“Ignoring you. No. Ya boy here has just upgraded from pizza cutter and register boy to pizza dough maker!”

“Th-th-that’s great, Richie.”

Eddie was honestly surprised at this development. “Don’t you need some kind of food handling license for that? Surely they don’t let just anyone make the pizzas. Especially the dough, with all that yeast and butter and stuff that can make you sick if not handled correctly.” He handed Richie some more olives.

“Please,” Richie scoffed, throwing an olive into the air and catching it in his mouth. “We live in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. They don’t give a shit about that stuff. My boss obviously saw how good I was with my hands when cutting the pizzas and decided to upgrade me.” He shot Eddie a wink. “Your mom would know all about my magic hands, Eds.”

Eddie had been about to toss Richie an olive to catch, but he threw it hard at his nose instead. “Oh, fuck off.”

“That’s not what your mom was saying last night, Eddie Spaghetti. They don’t call me Ten Inch Tozier for nothing.”

“Nobody has ever once called you that, Richard,” Stan butted in.

“Are you sure, Stanley? Wanna check for yourself?”

“Don’t you have a j-job to do, Rich?”

“Yes,” Eddie agreed, grabbing Richie’s hand to put the olive napkin in, “Take these and fuck off.”

Richie looked down at where their hands were touching for a moment, then back up at Eddie. “I’ll make sure to only put olives on half the pizza next time,” he said, surprising Eddie a little; he had definitely expected another joke of some sort. Richie’s eyes darted across the table to Stan and Bill – Bill was busy with his Pepsi but Stan was looking at Richie. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Eddie wondered if this was how the others felt when he and Richie had silent conversations in front of them. It was a little frustrating and he was very curious.

The moment was over in a few seconds, however, and Richie saluted them as he walked backwards to the front counter. Stan saluted back and Richie positively beamed. The three of them returned to their conversation about which superhero would win in a fight – well, Bill and Eddie discussed it, Stan’s eyes flitted between them like a tennis match and he interjected with a snarky comment every few minutes – and pointedly ignored Richie every time he came over to their table from that moment on.

They had been back at school for just over a week when Richie and Emily broke up. He told Eddie on a Thursday night when they were snuggled together under the covers after spending a couple of hours reading books on New York and fighting over turns on Richie’s Game Boy. It was nearly midnight. Richie sounded sad, but he said it was a mutual decision once they realised they didn’t work well together as a couple, even though they shared interests and were obviously attracted to each other and liked making out – they were just better off as friends.

There were then a few peaceful days – although, nothing that involved Richie could really be called peaceful – where Richie and Bill whispered to each other about the cheerleaders who kept walking past the Losers’ table, because Bill was also not dating anyone anymore, although that break up was less mutual and Bill had whined on the phone to Eddie for two hours the other night. Eddie could barely keep up with all his friends’ girlfriends and he wondered if Stan felt the same. Eddie was beginning to understand Stan’s sarcastic, done-with-the-world, constantly-eye-rolling personality more and more as they got older.

One day in calc the next week, Richie was explaining the difference between a definite and indefinite integral to Eddie for possibly the fifth time, when Tammy Ferris leaned across her desk to get Richie’s attention. She was wearing a dark purple t-shirt with a deep v neck, and that was probably what got Richie’s attention over anything else.

“Hey, Richie, could you help me out, too?” she asked sweetly, looking up at him through her lashes. Eddie was immediately on edge. He recalled Sandy once talking to Melissa about some girls who asked for help from smart boys that were actually sluts, but Eddie despised that word, had heard it come out of his mother’s mouth with respect to Beverly more than enough times, so he tried not to think about that. Maybe Tammy did actually need math help. Eddie could certainly understand that.

When he tuned back into their conversation, he had honestly no clue what the fuck Richie was on about.

“… area under the curve and definite integral are literally the same thing. Like, those terms are synonymous.”

“That’s probably the biggest word I’ve ever heard you use,” Eddie teased and Richie slapped his hand around behind him until he hit Eddie’s arm.

“I don’t get what that means, though,” Tammy said. “Ugh, I hate math. And Mrs. Freeman is the _worst_ , I never understand what she’s talking about.” Her brows furrowed together for a moment and her lips quirked. “Could you tutor me?”

Richie appeared to consider her for a moment, then turned slightly to look at Eddie. It almost looked like he was asking for his permission or blessing or something. Eddie stared back, giving the tiniest of shrugs.

“I’ll pay you of course,” Tammy continued, not seeming to notice their exchange.

“I, uh, yeah?”

“Ten bucks a lesson.”

“Shit, wow,” Richie mumbled under his breath. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tutor you.”

Eddie was slightly surprised that Tammy was that eager to improve her grades in calculus, but he supposed her parents must be rather well off if she could afford to pay a classmate that much to tutor her. Part of him wondered if maybe she had an ulterior motive, wondered if maybe Sandy was right. Although, Richie had just been dating one of her best friends not one week earlier, and Eddie was sure that making a move on a friend’s ex was against some kind of best friend code. Besides, it wasn’t like they could afford to be picky about where their income came from, and it was a hell of a lot more per hour than Domino’s was paying, so it would be good for them. It’d be fine, Eddie told himself, because Tammy, Emily and Samantha were all close friends and surely they wouldn’t betray each other like that. Eddie was totally overreacting. It’d all be fine.

Tammy Ferris ended up being a shitty friend.

Richie had been on the phone to Eddie after his first lesson with Tammy, telling him about how intently she’d listened, taken notes, and actually seemed to be a good student. Eddie could barely hide the surprise in his voice.

A few days later, Richie bragged to their group at lunchtime about how he got Tammy Ferris a B minus in calculus after only three hours teaching her – Eddie had gotten a B plus, which he was thrilled about, and Richie had lifted him off the floor with the intensity of his proud hug, so Eddie was winning in his own book. Ben and Mike were supportive, told Richie he’d always been a good teacher when any of them needed help with school work, once he got his jokes out and was actually serious for an extended period of time. Stan and Bev had laughed at that.

Not even two weeks after their first tutoring lesson, Richie called Eddie again to tell him about Tammy, and all of Eddie’s predictions (worst fears) came true.

“She just wanted some of this Tozier dick,” Richie proudly proclaimed.

Eddie’s heart sunk. “You… you slept with her?” He hated how panicked his voice sounded. He had no reason to feel panicked, yet, here he was.

Richie obviously caught on and Eddie did not want to think about what just went through Richie’s head, hearing his best friend freak about the possibility of him having sex because that was totally not a normal reaction. “What? No, dude, I’m kidding. Seriously, do you even know me? I joke about this shit but I’m always real with you.” Eddie did know this, but he felt warmth in chest hearing it anyway. “No, she just wanted to make out with me, although I think she did try to touch my dick and I don’t blame her. I think we’re dating now? I should probably ask her. Man, I am so bad at this shit.”

Eddie could not be surprised at the fact that Richie had jumped from one girlfriend to another in a matter of weeks. He had always been a flirt, and this was just the next logical step forward from there. Soon enough, he _would_ be sleeping with girls. Which was normal, Eddie had to remind himself. Still, somehow, for some goddamn reason, his stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought of Tammy’s hands in Richie’s hair where his once longed to be. Once, but not anymore.

Eddie was forced to start confronting his goddamn feelings a few days later. Hearing about Tammy flirting with and kissing Richie during a tuition session was one thing, but this took the fucking cake.

He had agreed to go over to Richie’s one evening when Domino’s was closing early since they hadn’t spent much time together recently and Richie getting off work early was a rarity. But it was nearly Christmas break, and Eddie had already promised his mother that he would help her start cleaning the house before their relatives came to visit in another week or so. He’d cleaned, he’d sucked up to her, and she’d let him go over to Richie’s after dinner, as long as he was home by 11. Eddie packed an extra serving of spaghetti bolognese and salad, because he knew Richie would find it hilarious and make a shit ton of jokes about Eddie bringing him spaghetti, and being the source of Richie’s joy was something Eddie could never resist.

It was dark by the time he arrived after Sonia had found a million and one things for him to do around the house before he could leave. His backpack was full of food and books and even a stupid comedy film that he knew Richie would love, because that was the kind of great friend Eddie was. He knew Maggie always left the front door unlocked, and he knew Went wouldn’t be home just yet, so Eddie parked his bike and let himself in, setting his bag down in the kitchen. He was still smiling as he walked up the stairs, careful not to be too loud lest he wake Maggie on the couch. Richie’s bedroom door was open a few inches, but when Eddie got close enough to see inside, his heart sank into his stomach and his breath got stuck in his throat.

Tammy was straddling Richie’s lap and their faces were pressed together. He was lying flat on the bed, she was on top of him, and Eddie’s eyes were immediately drawn to where Richie’s large hands clutched at the fabric on her lower back. Like a car crash or a horror movie, Eddie couldn’t look away, but that only lasted for a few seconds until Richie’s hands moved lower and Eddie’s stomach very nearly gave in and rejected his dinner. He stumbled, hand slapping against the wall, and Tammy shot up at the loud sound. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Eddie didn’t know what to do, so he bolted, running back downstairs into the living room, and flung himself on the couch next to a snoring Maggie Tozier.

The room was dark, and part of Eddie hoped Richie and Tammy wouldn’t come down and see him there, see him with his face in his hands. He was being utterly ridiculous. Tammy was Richie’s girlfriend now, and Eddie spent enough time around him that this was bound to happen at some point – he should have been glad they weren’t doing anything more than kissing.

Noises and movement were coming from upstairs, hushed whispers growing closer as the two descended the stairs to stand by the living room entrance. They didn’t notice Eddie there.

“…don’t know what you heard,” Richie was whispering, “but if it wasn’t my dad coming home yet, he will be soon. You should probably go.”

“I’ll call you later?” Tammy asked quietly, leaning her body into Richie’s and taking his hands in hers. She was a reasonably tall girl, probably Eddie’s height, and up on her toes, her face was nearly in line with Richie’s.

“Maybe tomorrow? One of my friends is coming over soon, probably to stay the night.” Richie ran a hand through his hair, adjusted his glasses where they were already perched perfectly on his nose.

Tammy frowned, dropping onto flat feet. “It isn’t Marsh, is it?”

Eddie felt like he was intruding. He should have just announced himself when they came downstairs. Now he was stuck here, listening to their conversation like a creep.

“What? No, it’s not Bev. I promise, there’s nothing between her and me, anyway. She’s like my sister, it’d be fucking weird. No, it’s just Eddie.”

It almost sounded strange, to hear his normal name come out of Richie’s mouth, foreign to his ears. No stupid nickname or food term thrown in there after it. Just Eddie.

“Oh, right. In that case…” Tammy leaned up and pressed her lips to Richie’s, and Eddie closed his eyes, not trusting himself to turn his head without making a noise. He could still hear the wet smacking sounds of them kissing, but depriving one sense was better than witnessing it full on again. He heard Tammy sigh happily. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

Eddie wanted to vomit.

After Richie closed the door behind her, Eddie figured it would be safe to make his presence known. Richie let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, muttered something under his breath. Standing up from the couch, Eddie cleared his throat and Richie whipped around, squinting at the dark room from the doorway.

“Eds?” he hissed.

How Richie recognised his voice from a cough, he had no clue. Eddie stepped forward and rolled his eyes, whispered back, “No, Richard, it’s Satan here to collect your soul. Your friends have been laughing at your not-funny jokes for long enough and our deal is over.”

Richie spluttered, clapping his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter as Eddie came into view. “Yowza. That is the second funny thing you’ve said this month, Spaghetti Man. Actually, wait, no. The last funny thing you said was before Thanksgiving. But you’re improving! I’m like a proud daddy.” Richie winked and Eddie gagged.

“I’ll show myself out,” Eddie said, took a few more steps forward to leave the room, and when he got to the doorway and was standing in front of his friend, Richie’s hand flew out and rested against the wall beside Eddie’s head.

Richie ducked his head so their eyes were aligned. “You’ll do no damn thing, ma darlin’. How long you been sittin’ there, anyway?” Eddie hated to admit it but that southern accent was sounding pretty accurate as of late.

“Long enough to see you sucking face with Tammy,” he quipped back, ducking under Richie’s arm.

“Yikes, sorry about that, Eds.” Richie pushed his glasses up his nose, followed Eddie out of the room and into the kitchen. “What’s in the bag?”

Eddie chuckled as he pulled out the container of food, a smile spreading across his face when Richie’s eyebrows shot up in recognition.

“Spaghetti from my Spaghetti!”

He flung his arms around Eddie and squeezed. Eddie should have been used to this feeling, but every time Richie hugged him so excitedly, it ignited something warm and comforting in his chest.

“Shut the fuck up, your mom is asleep,” he grumbled into Richie’s shoulder, then pushed him away.

“Fuck her, you brought me your namesake and I’m fucking ecstatic.”

“That’s the second big word you’ve used this month, Rich. I think I’m rubbing off on you, too.”

“You can rub off on me any—”

“I literally would rather fuck your mom like you just said.”

Then Richie was back at it with the damn Southern Belle. “Oh lawd, have the stars and the moon aligned at last? Eddie Spaghetti has made a mom joke. God, have you been listenin’ to my prayers?”

“You know I can’t stay the night,” Eddie changed the subject with an exaggerated eye roll, referring to what Richie told Tammy earlier. He put the food in the fridge and lead them upstairs to Richie’s room.

“Why yes, I do know indeed. I just wanted all the Spaghetti time I could get ma hands on, is all. No in’erruptions whatsoever.”

“I know you want me to make a joke about getting your hands on this spaghetti or some shit, but I’m not fucking biting, okay?”

“Aw, Eds, you were doing so well.”

“Your deal with the devil has expired, and I no longer find anything about you humorous in the slightest.”

“You wound me, Eds.”

“Bite me, asshole.”

“With plea—okay, okay! Don’t hit me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“…”

“Although I can bite your asshole if you want.”

“Die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN I HAVE SOME OPINIONS PLS.
> 
> I’m curious to know how much you guys are comfortable reading Richie/OFC stuff. I have a habit of going into way too much detail in scenes that could easily be glossed over or time-skipped and I wanna know what people would prefer, because I’m happy with whatever.
> 
> I wouldn’t be writing anything explicit or even mature, but even light/brief stuff like what’s in this chapter or like heavy making out, would you prefer it be skipped and then mentioned or be a bit vague and brief or just include the whole scene?
> 
> This would also apply to any future Richie/OMC or Eddie/OMC if the story goes that way. Any and all opinions would be greatly appreciated!!
> 
> (I borrowed “ten inch Tozier” from @caliceal on tumblr.)


	6. Late night platonic love confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1992 – March 1993. Richie has a motherly quarrel. Eddie is not falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter! Some of your questions or things you were wondering are actually addressed in this chapter so enjoy!! 
> 
> Also a few things: I added a couple more tags and probably will add more/edit them as the story progresses, as well as the rating eventually. And I removed the total number of chapters because I'm having to move some stuff around and rework some of the later chapters because they're just getting too fucking long.

Richie should not have been surprised at all to find his mother blanching at the calendar on December 18th with the realisation that Christmas was quickly approaching and she had done absolutely nothing to prepare for it. He’d just arrived home from work, still in his uniform with flour all over his shirt, and found Maggie standing in the kitchen with one hand clutching at her messy hair as she stared at the wall where the calendar was hanging. He should have said something like he told her so, or she should know better than to drink herself stupid so close to a big holiday or remind her that her brother’s family in Boston would be expecting them on Boxing Day and it was her own damn fault if she hadn’t RSVP’d by now. He should have hated her, he should have not cared about her because she had made it abundantly clear, time and time again, with slurred words and forgotten birthdays, that she did not care about him.

Still, seeing his mom pull her hair out in frustration, Richie felt so, so sad.

He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, balling up and threatening to burst him open at a moment’s notice, threatening behind his eyelids with tears that had been shed long ago, the first and second and third time this kind of thing happened. He should have been used to it by now. Yet, as he stood there, the bittersweet scent of red wine finding its way to his nose, he hoped today would be a good day, and took a step forward to loop his arms around his mom’s waist from behind, resting his head on her shoulder.

Maggie Tozier had been a good parent for a long time. When Richie was little, she would draw smiley faces on his lunch bag and take him to get ice cream after school and buy him comics and vinyls for his birthday. She would tell him he was beautiful even with glasses that were too big for his nine-year-old face, show him how to clean them properly when he’d forgotten what the optometrist told him, remind him that now he could see clearly how happy she always was to see her little boy every day. Richie had always loved his mom – he didn’t think he would ever stop. Even in the last several years, when Wentworth started working late, and then ‘working late’, and Maggie drowned her sorrows and heartbreak in wine and whisky, Richie never stopped loving her.

His father was a right piece of work and Richie despised him with every ounce of his being, and he really did not want to think about what Went Tozier was doing right now while his dear old Mags was holed up in the kitchen thinking about Christmas being only a week away. For an innocent moment, Richie wondered if he could learn how to cook in a few days and help his mom make something to take to his uncle’s on Boxing Day. That moment was shattered when she turned in his arms and stared at him with confusion written all over her face, before her brows shot up and she clumsily grasped his arm.

“RRRRichie, you’re home?” Maggie slurred, and Richie shrugged her off. “Hey, don’t be a disrespectful asshole like your father, Richard,” she snapped, grabbing his arm again. “You’re my son and I’ll hold you if I want to.”

“Yeah, well, it sure don’t feel like it, Maggie. And if I don’t fucking want you to—” He slapped her arm away, “—then you can cut it out.”

She glared at him, as if looking at her son with disgust and contempt was the way to win him over. Her eyes drifted down his body briefly, annoyed expression morphing into confusion. “Why are you all covered in dust? Is that cocaine? Are you doing drugs, Richard? I’d have hoped we raised you better than to waste your money like that; you know how expensive that stuff is.”

Richie gawked. “Expensive? Exp—what the fuck is wrong with you? You’re more worried about me blowing your hard-earned savings than about my freakin’ health and wellbeing.” He turned to walk away, all thoughts of Christmas dinner flying out the window – today was not a fucking good day.

A good day was when Maggie was already asleep on the couch when Richie got home, passed out and not able to pick a fight with him. A good day was when Wentworth stayed out all weekend and Maggie only got a little tipsy and there was actual homecooked food in the fridge. It was when they’d engage in small talk like a civilised family, when she’d ask Richie how his day was, and even if she didn’t listen or was too drunk to remember, it made Richie feel a little more normal, like his family hadn’t completely fallen apart, like his parents didn’t hate each other or there wasn’t a screaming match going on downstairs every other day. Good days were few and far between, and Richie had been fucking kidding himself thinking that, just because she was quiet and the house didn’t reek of alcohol, it could have been a good day for him and his mom.

Maggie reached out to him again when he headed for the stairs, a small whine escaping her throat. Richie whipped around when he felt her fingers brush against his hand. “Don’t fucking touch me like that,” he spat, yanking his hand away, anger building inside him. “Like you give a shit. Like you care that I’m home or how I spend _my_ goddamn money. Yeah. I have a fucking job, Maggie. This shit on me, it’s not cocaine, it’s fucking flour. I make pizza and I earn money and I don’t take a damn thing from you and Went. So fuck you and fuck Christmas.” He started upstairs, willing his tears away and ignoring her calling his name.

Barely resisting the urge to slam his bedroom door, Richie threw his bag on the floor and his keys on the nightstand. One of the good things about having parents with money was that his room had its own phone. He didn’t even think about what he was doing when he picked it up and dialled Beverly’s number. It rang four times.

“Hello?”

Richie let out a half-choked sob upon hearing his friend’s voice.

_Stop it. Be strong._

He cleared his throat, blinking his tears back. “Hello yourself, Marsh.” Luckily, his voice sounded steadier than he felt, if only just.

“Richie? Are you okay?”

Fuck Bev and her ability to read him and know him so damn well.

“For sure, babe,” he drawled, knowing she’d see (hear) right through any bullshit and he may as well just spit it out already. “Peachy. Just had a good ol’ chat with mommy dearest, which, of course, devolved into another classic Tozier yell-a-thon, but what’s fuckin’ new?”

Bev tisked sadly. “Oh, honey, that really sucks, I’m sorry. Did you just get back from work?”

Richie hummed in agreement. “Mm. Yep, and Mags wasn’t off her face already when I got home and I thought—you know, I-I fucking thought she might be okay today. Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Richie, no, cut that crap out right now. It’s not stupid or-or—it doesn’t make you an idiot for wishing your mom would act like a mom for once. _She_ is the one in the wrong here, babe, don’t you ever forget that. She and your dad and their… thing, relationship, whatever, is the reason for all this, not you. It’s not you, Rich.”

He huffed out a laugh completely devoid of humour. “Right. ‘Cause the reason everyone’s parents’ marriages fall apart is totally never to do with their fucked up children. I probably drove them apart when I was born.”

“Richie, you know that’s bullshit. You’ve told me so many times how in love they used to be. So, stop this self-pitying crap and just be angry at them, not yourself.”

If only it were that easy.

“I think I’m just gonna go drink myself stupid. Follow my mother’s stellar footsteps. Say hi to Linda for me – I’m sure she misses me rolling around in her sheets. Love you, bub.”

Richie hung up before Bev could protest.

He was not actually going to drink himself stupid; he never could, directly after seeing his mom like that, but perhaps he’d duck outside and have a smoke. He tapped his empty jacket pocket, then rummaged around in his bag, but came up empty there as well.

“Fuck my life.”

Richie momentarily considered going over to see Eddie, because that always made him feel better. But he’d already dumped his shit on one of his friends tonight, he didn’t need to go ruining someone else’s day. Instead, he fished around his desk for a cassette and stuck it into the stereo. It didn’t play.

“C’mon, you piece of shit. Work.” He hit the side of the stereo, like that was going to help. “Fucking kidding me, right?”

He took out the tape, dusted it off, turned it around, checked the powerpoint, turned the stereo off and on again, the whole nine yards. It still didn’t play. He pulled his glasses off his face and tossed them on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing his breathing to calm the fuck down before he threw something. “Fucking, fuck!” He smacked his glasses off the table and they hit the wall and shattered. He stared at them, lying broken next to his guitar that hadn’t been touched in nearly a year, and took a shaky breath. That was his last spare pair of glasses. 

Jaw clenched and eyes burning again, Richie dropped to the floor in the middle of his room, all his energy drained from his body and unable to move himself to the bed or even the desk chair. Guess he was sleeping on the carpet tonight.

The next morning, Richie was very late for school. He had not, in fact, slept on the floor, but unable to see his alarm clock properly, he didn’t set an earlier alarm to call Eddie and ask him to bring him the spare glasses he kept at his house. It was the last day before winter break and after being woken by his usual alarm that was definitely too late to get him to school on time since he couldn’t drive, he’d knocked the clock off the nightstand to join the rest of the mess on the floor and stuffed his head under his pillow with a groan.

Apparently he’d fallen back asleep because the next thing he knew, his blankets were being yanked off the bed and there were gloved hands on the back of his shoulders.

“I had to fucking ride to school in this weather because of you!”

Richie may have been mostly asleep, but he would recognise that feisty voice anywhere.

“Do you even remember what it’s like to bike in the snow? Because I do, because fucking Emily and Tammy have been stealing my ride for weeks, and now today, of all days, you decide to have a little sleep in? It’s fuckin’ snowing! Richie! I know you’re awake. I can see your stupid smile from here. Fucking, get up!” Eddie grabbed the pillow that was over his head and smacked him with it. “Get. Up!”

Richie turned over to look at Eddie but didn’t move from his position lying down. “I am up, Eds. Little Richie is always up when you’re around. Although, not that little.”

“Oh my god, why do you make me regret everything? You know what, forget I ever came. I’m leaving.”

“I would literally never, ever be able to forget it if you came,” Richie replied with a wink, smugly satisfied with the blush that crept up Eddie’s neck to his cheeks.

“Y-You—fucking, Bill was nice enough to drive me here during lunch to collect your sorry ass so that I didn’t have to ride through the snowstorm again, but I’m going to have to buy him lunch tomorrow as penance for making him wait so long because you aren’t fucking moving and I didn’t tell him to leave just in case you weren’t even here!”

Richie blinked a few times, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Jesus Christ, Eds, you talk _so_ fast and _so_ aggressively, it’s a wonder your little head can keep up with your mouth.”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that, and where are your goddamn glasses? We need to go.”

“Oh. Yeah, they broke. I broke ‘em. I have none left, also, which is why I didn’t come in today. Do you have my spares?”

Eddie stopped glaring at Richie – at least, Richie thought he was glaring; the Eddie shaped blob was facing him and he was always glaring so it was safe to assume – and dropped the pillow. He exhaled deeply, settled his hands on his hips. “How did you manage that this time?”

Sitting up finally, Richie gave a shrug. “Had a tiff with Mags and threw ‘em at the wall,” he replied easily like that was a regular occurrence, which it sort of was, actually.

Eddie sighed, turning to sit beside Richie on the bed. He gently clapped his hand on Richie’s knee, thumb moving back and forth slowly. The silence that settled over the boys was not awkward, and the nerves in Richie’s knee almost felt like they were on fire. Eddie always seemed to have that effect on him. He could go further, delve into everything that had been said between his mother and him last night, but it wasn't like Eddie would want to hear it; he surely had enough issues with his own mom and didn’t need Richie laying more problems on him to worry about.

“You sure look adorable in this ugly ass sweater, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie decided to say. It was hardly a lie, anyway – one of the few joys that winter brought for Richie was Eddie in cute yet ugly sweaters. Eddie was close, so he could almost make out his features. Eddie was staring at him, possibly trying to decide whether or not to push on the Maggie issue or let it go.

Evidently, he chose the latter, standing up and holding out his hand to Richie. “Come on, then. Bill is waiting,” he said, ignoring Richie’s comment. Richie took his hand easily, like it was natural, and they walked downstairs together, separating when they got to the front door.

Christmas break rolled around and the Tozier house looked exactly the same as every other time of year, just with a bit more frost on the windows. Mike and Bill had made Richie a cardboard Christmas tree a few years ago that he kept in his room, but other than that, there were no festivities or decorations in sight. It was Christmas Eve. Went wasn’t working but he was holed up in his study regardless, so Maggie was about to head out with a friend or someone for the evening, leaving Richie practically alone in the house. Richie hated being alone in the house, even more now that his stereo was broken. It meant he could hear himself think and that was never a good path to go down. He’d been thinking about his interaction with Maggie the past few days and it’d been driving him insane.

He picked up the phone and called Bill. Their gang was meant to be meeting at the Denbrough’s later tonight to exchange Secret Santa gifts, but Richie asked if they could come to his place instead. Cleaning up his room for the occasion would give him something to do for the next few hours so he didn’t get lost in his head, and he even promised to swipe some whisky from his mom’s stash to share around, maybe even make some cocktails. After that, he called Tammy and wished her for the holiday. He hadn’t seen her in a few days, but they spoke on the phone regularly and had organised a movie date between Christmas and New Year's Eve to see Home Alone 2.

The moment he hung up the phone, there was a knock on his bedroom door. This should have been the first sign that something was odd, because Richie’s parents hardly checked in on him and even when they did, they weren’t the kind of people to care whether or not the door was closed and just walked in, and he could have been jacking off or some shit.

“Come in?”

The door opened slowly and Maggie took a step inside, half her body blocked by the door. To say Richie was confused would have been a massive understatement.

“Um, what do you want?” he asked, eyeing her cautiously.

“Jeez, is that any way to greet your mom on Christmas?” Her tone was dry and kind of reminded him of Stan.

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll bite.” He put on a wide, fake grin. “Hiya, Mom. Merry Christmas. Now, what the hell do you want?”

Maggie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving now, and I’m probably not going to be back until tomorrow, and I know you and your little friends like to do stuff on Christmas Eve so I thought I’d give you your present now.”

Somehow, his brows rose further, disappearing into his hair. “You… you what?” Richie could not remember the last time his parents gave him an actual gift for Christmas. Usually, they just left money on the table for him to find on Christmas morning.

Coming into the room fully, Maggie brought a large, boxed and wrapped object into his view. Richie eyed the gift suspiciously, then looked up at his mother, who was watching him expectantly. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Richie scoffed at the pet name. How dare she, after all these years of half-hearted parenting, of never asking him how school was or what he was doing during the summer, of late birthday wishes and empty kitchen cupboards and emptier promises of family bonding time, how dare Maggie (not Mom, she hardly deserved that title) come into his room and present him with gifts and call him her baby? How fucking dare she try to pull on his heartstrings like that, try to buy her way back into his life and pretend she hadn’t lost his respect and love the moment she chose a bottle over him?

He reached out slowly and took the present from her. It was heavy. “You know you can’t just buy me presents and expect me to forget about all the shitty things you do,” he told her, determined to remain untouched by her eyes, gentle and soft where they were always glassed over and hardened.

“I’m not trying to buy your love, Richie. I just want to start making some changes. Open it, please? I think you’ll like it.”

“How the fuck would you know what I like? You don’t even talk to me anymore.” _Or when you do, you’re so freakin’ wasted you don’t even remember it the next day,_ he wanted to say. He wanted to scream at her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her and demand to know why she didn’t love him like a mother was supposed to love their son.

“Open it, Richard.”

“Fucking…” He aggressively tore at the paper, throwing it on the ground at Maggie’s feet, then slowing as he realised what was inside.

It was a stereo.

“I noticed you haven’t been listening to music lately,” Maggie explained. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, baby, and I won’t pretend to know, but I do know how you can get when there’s too much silence and you have no one to talk to. I-I don’t want you to be sad again. I know how much you love music and I… I thought it’d help.”

Richie stared at the device in his hands. It was a brand new model, one he’d been talking about wanting to Bill and Beverly for months. He might have mentioned it while on the phone or stared at its picture in a catalogue for a few moments and somehow, at some point, Maggie had noticed. Maggie had noticed him lying in his bedroom alone for days, had noticed him doing nothing if he wasn’t at work, had realised this was something he wanted, something he needed, maybe, and bought it for him. Somewhere in that brain of hers, that brain in a constant state of intoxication, there was enough cognitive thought to go out and buy her son an item he desired for Christmas. Richie hated how his chest felt like it was expanding, filling, warming at the thought. He hated that his brows creased and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, that he was touched by the sentiment. Maggie had no right to make him feel this way.

Yet, when he looked up at his mother, saw the nervous, cautious expression on her face, waiting for his response, his voice cracked. Now she knew this had affected him, and he hated that most of all.

“Ye-ah, it might.” He cleared his throat quickly, dropping his gaze. “Than-Thanks, Mags… Mom.”

Maggie’s eyes creased as a fond smile took over her whole face. “You’re so welcome, Richie, baby.”

Throwing on a second load of laundry, Richie glanced around his room, almost surprising himself when he realised he could actually see the floor. Their group would be hanging out downstairs in the living room for most of the night, but Eddie, Bill and Beverly were probably going to stay the night, so he had to get his room cleaned to make space for Bill and Bev on the floor and wash his sheets for Eddie. It had been a while since the Losers’ sleepover ended up at the Tozier’s house, but Richie was nothing if not stubborn about making everything just the way his friends liked it. 

This year, Richie had picked Bev for Secret Santa. On December 1st, they had all thrown their names into a bowl and each picked a piece of paper, as expected – the only condition with the Losers’ particular Secret Santa was that Richie and Eddie were not allowed to get each other. It was Richie’s fault, really. The second year they did this, Richie got Eddie, and stole his parents’ credit card to buy him a record player and two vinyls, which was nearly three times the agreed budget. Richie didn’t give a shit about the stupid rules, especially not when it came to Eddie. But now that meant they weren’t allowed to buy each other gifts through the game. Not that something like a game would stop them; Richie and Eddie always got each other little presents that they exchanged after the Secret Santa reveals were over – in private, of course, because Stan would probably kill them if he found out they were cheating.

The seven of them were now gathered in the Tozier’s living room, sitting in a circle on the floor. In the middle was a pile of presents. Bill reached in and picked one up to read the nametag.

“Beverly.”

Ever since the Eddie incident and being forced to play by the rules, Richie liked to get his Secret Santas two small presents – one funny and one meaningful. Sometimes the funny gift was not received as well as he’d hoped, but if Richie gave up every time people didn’t laugh at his jokes, he would have never made it past the third grade. As Beverly held up the Southern Cut Marlboros and pink dildo with a huge smirk across her face, Richie knew this year was a win.

“Je-Je-Jesus, Richie.”

“You are so fucking gross.”

“Where do you even find this stuff?”

“Beverly, honey, please put that away.”

“This is worse than my Christian prayer necklace.”

After all the gifts had been exchanged – Mike got Richie Bon Jovi’s new album Keep The Faith – Richie retreated to the kitchen, claiming to get more snacks. He withdrew a festive bag from one of the cupboards, along with another bag of Doritos, and turned to find Eddie standing by the kitchen bench, hands behind his back. Richie grinned.

“Fancy seeing you here, Eds.”

“Shut up and take this.” Eddie thrust a soft looking, perfectly wrapped present at Richie, not quite meeting his eye.

“Ooh, what’s got my little Spaghetti Man so nervous, I wonder?” Richie took the gift and handed Eddie his bag. He tore off the wrapping paper as Eddie dug his hand inside, and they both looked at their presents at the same time.

Richie was holding a bright orange sweater, and he realised immediately that it matched the pale green one Eddie was currently wearing, and Richie was a _sucker_ for matching outfits. Bundled inside the sweater was a light blue button-down shirt covered in flamingos and a cassette tape with Eddie’s neat handwriting scribbled across the front. Eddie had never made him a mixtape before.

In Eddie’s hands was a split photo frame, vibrant, clear photos taken on Stan’s fancy new digital camera – one was of all of their friends smiling at the camera at a game night, and another of just the two of them in the arcade, laughing in celebration when Richie had broken his own high score on Street Fighter last summer. Stan really did take the best photos. There was also a piece of paper on which Richie had drawn two movie tickets to any film Eddie wanted and a voucher for a road trip to a destination of his choosing.

When Richie looked up from his presents, he found Eddie watching him with soft eyes.

“Eds,” he began, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times.

Eddie giggled, clutching his gifts close to his chest, voice gentle when he spoke. “Well, I’ll be. Richie Tozier, rendered speechless. The Trashmouth has been forced to retire as he does not live up to his name after all.”

Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully, stepped forward and pulled Eddie into a tight hug that the shorter boy returned immediately, wrapping his arms around Richie’s middle. They stayed like that for a few moments until they heard footsteps and Stan walked into the room, and they quickly stashed their gifts in one of the cupboards.

“I’ve been unwillingly nominated to come and see what’s taking you morons so long.”

Richie threw the bag of Doritos at him. “Just trading sweet details about what your mom’s like in the sack.”

For a second, Eddie looked like he was going to groan dramatically and probably cover his face with his hands, but then he turned to Stan and said, “Yeah, she’s a real dirty talker. You’ve got to tell your father to step up his game or Ten Inch Dick over here is gonna be your new step-daddy.”

Richie was so fucking proud of him.

As predicted, it was Eddie, Bev and Bill who were able to stay over. Richie threw a few blankets and pillows at the mattresses on the floor, and no one commented on the fact that Eddie and Richie were still sharing a bed at sleepovers, despite not being twelve or thirteen anymore. It was almost like it was a given. Yeah, Eddie and Richie were super close and sometimes they fell asleep in the hammock together because on really hot days they were too tired to care, and sometimes they shared ice cream if Eddie was in the mood because that saved them both money, and sometimes Eddie came to school wearing Richie’s sweaters because they were large and warm and Eddie hated the cold. It was normal, given, innately _them_ , and the rest of their friends just accepted it.

Bill and Bev were currently sharing the bathroom, Bill brushing his teeth and Bev brushing her hair, while Richie and Eddie set up all of their beds.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked from the other side of the room.

Richie turned to find him looking down at his old stereo with the trash can sitting on top of it.

“Oh, my stereo broke like last week or something and Mags got me a new one for Christmas.” He pointed to his desk where the new stereo sat, covered in cassette tapes and other rubbish.

“That’s new? It’s fucking filthy. How can you even live like this?” Eddie walked over and brushed the stereo clean, tossing things into the trash can. “Oh my god, Richie, this thing is amazing. Holy shit! Wait, your mom got you this?”

Richie shrugged. “Yeah, she came in this afternoon and said something about wanting to make up for all the bullshit she’s put me through. I couldn’t fucking believe her. But it is actually something I’ve been wanting for ages and she just… she seemed so sincere, like she really did wanna apologise, and I-I don’t know.” He sat on the bed and looked down at his hands, playing with his own fingers. “It was nice, I guess.”

When Eddie didn’t say anything for a few seconds, Richie looked up at him. Eddie’s brows were furrowed and his lips were pressed together. He almost looked upset.

“What?” Richie asked.

“That sure was nice of her,” Eddie mumbled.

“Yeah… That was the point. I’m confused? What’s—”

The bedroom door swung open with a bang, cutting Richie off. Eddie grabbed his toiletries bag and rushed out, slipping between Bill and Bev, who stood there, looking as confused as Richie felt.

“What’s got him all r-r-riled up?”

“I dunno,” Richie replied honestly, still staring at the open door and not noticing the sympathetic look Beverly gave him. 

No one mentioned anything as they got into bed, and Richie was starting to wonder if Eddie was going to say anything about it at all. Bill’s quiet snores quickly filled the room and Beverly’s deep breathing followed soon after. Richie had his back to Eddie, facing the window, but he couldn’t sleep. He turned onto his back and saw Eddie’s body facing his. He couldn’t make out his eyes, but Richie had a feeling Eddie had been watching him.

“See something you like, Kaspbrak?” he whispered.

Scoffing quietly, Eddie shifted and brought his arm up to rest his cheek against his hand. “Nothing about you appeals to me in the slightest.”

“Ouch, Eds. Such lies and slander truly cut me to the core.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Really?” Snatching his glasses from the nightstand, Richie turned to face Eddie properly. “You mean you weren’t just caught staring at my perfectly sculpted freckle face?”

“You have no proof of that. Everyone knows how blind you are.”

“Eddie.”

“Richie.”

“ _Eddie_. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. Who said anything was going on?”

“Dude, hey.” Richie put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and he flinched. “Hey, hey, Eds, what’s up? Are you okay?”

Richie scooted closer until their faces were only a few inches from each other and moved his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek.

“Hey, look at me.” Eddie recoiled further and Richie cursed under his breath. “Shit, I’m sorry, that was stupid. I’m sorry, I just—I don’t want you to be… whatever you’re being at the moment. I—fuck, I really suck at this. Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Eds. Like you said to me once – I love more than anything in the world to pull on your pigtails and get you all riled up, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

They stared at each other for a few moments, no sound in the room except the soft buzz from their sleeping friends. Eddie sniffled. “More than anything? Even fucking my mother?”

Richie chuckled at that. “There he is. It’s okay.” He stroked his thumb across Eddie’s cheek. “Now, wanna tell me what that was all about earlier? Why’d you rush outta here before?”

“I just…” Eddie started mumbling, so quiet that Richie could not hear a word he was saying, despite being right in front of his face.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, Spaghetti.”

“I don’t want you to forget about me and our plan.”

Brows furrowed, Richie cocked his head. “What are you talking about? How could I ever forget you?”

“No, stop, shut up and listen. I know you have Tammy now and I think it’s great that you have a girlfriend and it’s great that your mom is being nice and I know you’ve been wanting to have a proper relationship with her for years, so it’s good that it’s finally happening, but i-i-if you’ve got your super fantastic mom and your gorgeous girlfriend then what the hell do you need to run away with me for? You have someone to take care of you and love you, and you have someone to go out and have fun with and Tammy’s probably a shit ton more fun to hang out with than me because she probably smokes weed and doesn’t complain about safety regulations or-or-or blabber on about music and movies you don’t give a shit about or—”

“Eddie, breathe.”

He exhaled deeply and loudly, sucked in a breath, and went to continue. “Like what do you need a best friend for, if you’ve got good parents and a good girlfriend and you’re surrounded by all your friends, like I’m just another friend now and you don’t need to run away with me ‘cause everything you need is right here and—”

“Eds, stop talking. Jesus Christ, you’ve turned into me.”

“Richie, I—”

“Stop. Now you listen to me.”

He took Eddie’s face in his hands again and looked into his eyes until he calmed down. Richie had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He wanted to press his mouth to Eddie’s to shut up his ridiculous rambling and show him that there was nothing, no one else in the world who was more important to him than Eddie was. But he couldn’t, he could never, ever do that, not just because of Tammy, but because it would fucking ruin everything. No matter how strongly his heart ached to hold Eddie and tell him he loved him – because he fucking did, there was no way he could continue denying it – he would never do that to their friendship or the rest of their group. It was hard enough when Bill and Beverly tried to date in eighth grade, when they’d all been young and had just lost their innocence That Summer and were too dependent on their group bond to let something as stupid as a romantic break up tear them apart. It would be different now, if Richie kissed Eddie and Eddie pushed him away and told him he was disgusting and didn’t like him like that because he wasn’t broken and sick like Richie was.

It was so hard, seeing Eddie’s soft, parted lips and wide eyes looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, to not just lean in those extra few inches and close the distance between them. His body ached to do that, to give in to his desires and give Eddie all the love he had to give.

“Rich?”

But he couldn’t. What he could do was talk.

“Don’t you dare think for a goddamn second, that I would consider abandoning our plan for a new stereo or a good lay. Don’t even think that you’re not important to me or that I don’t need you, Eds. There’s no parent or girl in the world that could make me bail on you. You, Eddie Spaghetti, are my best friend, and my favourite dude on this whole fucking planet and there is not a gift or apology my mom could give me, no kiss or date I could have with Tammy that would make me forget about my favourite Spaghetti Man. I… I love you.”

And it just slipped out.

It felt like a love confession. Like a real, proper love confession. It felt like Eddie was seeing inside his head, like he was reaching into his soul and holding his heart and listening to it beat. Like he knew exactly what Richie meant when he said those words. There’s no way he could have known, Richie knew that, logically, but it still felt like an eternity when Eddie didn’t reply for more than a few seconds, and his heart jumped into his throat, waiting to be crushed. Waiting, like he was about to be rejected, pushed away and called names, even though he was almost sure Eddie would never do that to him. Waiting for the penny to drop, waiting for Eddie to realise he was friends with a broken person with a disgusting, dirty mind that he couldn’t fix with medicine or an inhaler or chicken soup. Waiting for Eddie to _see him_ , and run.

Eddie didn’t run. Eddie reached up and pushed Richie’s fringe off his face and smiled, truly smiled, gentle and warm, the kind of smile that made Richie’s heart feel full and complete even if it wasn’t meant in the same way Richie had said _I love you_.

“Okay,” Eddie said. “Thanks, Rich.”

And it wasn’t rejection, but it wasn’t _I love you, too_ , which made Richie feel so conflicted. He didn’t want Eddie to know, obviously, but it almost hurt just as much to not hear him say it back. Not that he thought he would, because Eddie wasn’t like that, wasn’t like him, but a small (stupid) part of him had hoped (stupidly) that he might. 

Thoughts of Tammy came flooding into his mind and Richie’s stomach clenched with guilt. He’d let his head get away from him again, indulged in these thoughts of Eddie, of loving Eddie, except he’d forgotten about one of the other important people in his life. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself and to her. He’d done the same thing to his relationship with Emily, and he’d _really_ liked Emily. It was almost as if he was sabotaging any chance he had with a girl who liked him by relishing his time with Eddie like this until he felt like he was being insincere to his girlfriend and hated himself enough to break it off and feel like he was doing them a favour.

Ah, shit.

Richie moved his hand from Eddie’s cheek to squeeze his upper arm gently. “You okay to sleep now?”

“Yeah. Night, Richie.” Eddie’s hand came up to brush against Richie’s, and then he turned away, facing the other side of the room. Richie watched the back of his head for a moment. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, so he didn’t think about it too much longer, slowly drifting off to sleep himself.

“G’night, Eds,” he mumbled.

* * *

It had been several weeks, yet Richie’s late night platonic love confessions were still doing Eddie’s head in. It was all he could think about and it was driving him insane. Whenever he was supposed to be studying or watching shitty TV with his mother or hanging out at the mall with Bill and Ben, somehow, he was always thinking about Richie.

 _I love you_.

Eddie knew, obviously, that Richie didn’t mean it in any way other than a good, brotherly, platonic love. And it wasn’t like he wanted Richie to love him in any other way, because Eddie had long since gotten over his own crush and thinking about Richie loving him in a romantic way would lead to old feelings resurfacing and Eddie really did not want to deal with that right now. He had to think about school and college and saving money and not being in love with his best friend because he wasn’t even in love with his best friend and never had been. He’d had a crush, sure, but that was years ago. He had to stop thinking about this so much.

Eddie decided that he had to distance himself a little. They were getting too close, too soft and mushy around each other, and it was taking over Eddie’s life. Beverly once said that she would never let a boy consume her entire life, never let one person become her reason for doing everything, for living, for wanting to do better and be better, because she was in charge of herself and her future and she wanted to do things for _her_ , not for anyone else. Eddie tried to remember that sentiment when he was daydreaming about Richie like this.

He needed distance and time to collect himself and his thoughts and feelings and shove them away in the back of his head along with his mother’s harsh words and the summer he’d rather forget and the urge to take fake medicine again and never look back.

He was still adamant that he didn’t have a crush on Richie, but it seemed to be getting harder and harder to convince himself of this as the months went by. But Eddie was nothing if not stubborn, so he persisted. He did not like Richie Tozier. He did not and would not ever again. He promised himself that.

After winter break, training for their next track meet took up several nights a week for Eddie and Ben. Sometimes it was just the two of them pushing each other for another lap of the school oval, sometimes it was with Bill and Mike in the gym, spotting each other doing bench presses and shouting words of encouragement. Eddie always brought extra towels and soap and Ben would bring oversized hoodies when Eddie had to give Richie’s back. Eddie liked wearing big, fluffy jumpers, okay? Ben’s jumpers didn’t quite feel the same as Richie’s, but Eddie was dead set on ignoring that feeling.

Ben frequently offered to help Eddie when he was lifting weights, but Eddie insisted that he wasn’t _that_ weak and was perfectly fine and Ben sometimes gave him this fucking _look_ and it made Eddie want to smack him. He wasn’t delicate, he knew that, and he knew Ben also knew that, and Ben wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings by offering help. Eddie was well aware that he was small, but he was training hard, wanted to be better and stronger, and Ben just wanted to help him achieve that. Ben was a really good friend. He didn’t seem to mind when Eddie leaned into him unintentionally while they hung out at the library or a park or studied together in Ben’s room, and Eddie had grown to really enjoy his company.

It was nice, just sitting or walking or working in silence; as much as Eddie loved to complain and rant non-stop about everything under the sun, he did enjoy quiet time sometimes and Ben was a fantastic friend for that. It reminded Eddie of the times he, Ben and Bill used to spend together at the barrens without the others, without Beverly and Richie blowing smoke into their faces or Stan and Mike yapping on about some nature documentary like animals were the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

Ben let Eddie practice cutting his hair – from all he observed Sandy and Melissa doing at the salon, Eddie had picked up a trick or two – and Eddie got Ben to teach him about cars, about what the other guys did to help Richie and Bill fix up their cars, and Eddie found himself oddly interested in them.

It was highly likely something to do with a vague memory he had of watching his father work on their family car when he was little. Sonia never liked to talk about Frank, but Eddie suspected his father loved cars and loved spending time with Eddie while he tinkered with theirs.

Eddie even found himself alone in the library on more than one occasion, nose stuck in book after book about the mechanics and safety of cars. Sure, they were greasy and could be dangerous if handled incorrectly (see: Richie), but they were also physics and engineering embodied and Eddie wanted to learn and discover how a hunk of metal could move so smoothly, how padding and airbags could save someone in an accident – the safety aspect was particularly intriguing to him, he’d admit – and after mere weeks of reading and learning, Eddie felt like he knew more about cars than Ben did. He was kind of proud of himself and was really looking forward to browsing second-hand car shops with Richie in New York.

Announcements for the Derry High spring musical went up early January to give students ample time to rehearse before the show at the end of February. It was Into The Woods and Richie blatantly told everyone that he would make a fantastic Prince Charming, although everyone except Mike disagreed. Richie then said that Mike was great and he was definitely Richie’s best friend now, which even Mike thought was funny and Richie looked completely betrayed by his friends. Eddie found the whole interaction completely hilarious.

Richie did not, in fact, go for the role of Prince Charming – Eddie was the only one who knew that Richie was actually very insecure about singing in front of people other than the Losers (mostly just Eddie) and would never go for such a demanding lead role in a musical, and Eddie only knew this because Richie was high as fuck when he stumbled into Eddie’s room a few days before the auditions and decided to explain himself to him. He instead went for an ensemble role. ‘Ensemble’ and ‘Richie’ were two words Eddie never expected to hear together.

Valentine’s Day came and went, and Ben and Beverly were officially together, which the whole gang was happy about; they’d been watching them dance around each other for _years_. Richie spent the night of the fourteenth at Tammy’s – whatever the hell that entailed (Eddie didn’t want to know) – and Bill and Mike were off with whoever their current their girlfriends were as well, leaving Eddie and Stan alone together. They spent the day at Stan’s, drinking bourbon neat that had been stolen from Maggie Tozier and listening to a Pink Floyd vinyl on Eddie’s record player. Eddie thought that, if he ever gave into Richie’s pleas and decided to get high one day, he’d definitely want to do it with Stan. Eddie was absolutely not thinking about Richie and Tammy that night.

Into The Woods was good, Eddie thought, but even Stan admitted that it wasn’t the same seeing a show without Richie taking over the spotlight every other minute. He sure was good at that. Their whole group went to see the show together this time, all chipped in for a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a bunch of arcade tokens to congratulate Richie on his performance, no matter how small a role he may have played. Richie gathered Eddie into an exaggerated hug and kissed Ben all over his face and Eddie wondered, amused, if Richie was capable of thanking his friends in a normal fashion.

As the month neared its end, Richie’s birthday was coming up fast and Eddie felt slightly overwhelmed with having to come up with another meaningful gift after the matching sweaters on Christmas; he’d always known how much of a sap Richie was and having matching sweaters with his arguably best friend was supposed to be sweet, but Richie’s presents to Eddie had far outdone that, and now the present pressure was on Eddie’s shoulders. March seventh fell on a Saturday and Mike and Bill were talking about throwing Richie a surprise party at the barn – not that Richie could ever honestly be surprised by anything – and Eddie found himself paired with Beverly with the task of supplying music and alcohol.

The two of them were currently at Richie’s house while he was at work, sifting through his music collection, even though they both already knew Richie’s music taste – or lack thereof, for Richie could probably find a song he liked in every genre that existed. Bill had lent them the Tozier’s spare key which Richie had probably forgotten he’d even given him, and as soon as school had finished that day, Eddie and Beverly had made their move. Wentworth was working late, of course, and Maggie had a long afternoon shift at wherever the fuck she was working now, according to Richie, so they were safely alone in the house for a few hours until Richie returned after his shift.

“I’m hoping to stumble across some kind of guilty pleasure mixtape,” Bev was saying, glancing down at the mess on Richie’s desk. “Holy shit, is this an A400?”

“Yep,” Eddie replied, still feeling slightly bitter about that whole thing and not looking up from his pile of rubbish until he found Richie’s Walkman. “His mom got him that for Christmas.”

“I didn’t think they did Christmas as a family anymore.”

“They don’t.” Eddie opened the Walkman and inspected the tape inside. “Nirvana, Rolling Stones, blah blah blah, Guns N Roses, how predictable.” He flipped it over and burst out laughing. “Oh, shit. Wham, Cyndi Lauper, oh my god, Bev, Richie fucking listens to Air Supply!” He frowned as he scanned the rest of the song titles and his eyes caught the words _Spaghetti I_ scribbled across the side.

“I think I found another one,” Beverly said, pulling a tape out of the stereo. “Spaghetti two? Like Roman numerals two. Whitney Houston and INXS and—” Beverley started laughing, too, “—Footloose!”

“Why the _fuck_ are they named after me? I don’t even like half those artists!”

“I don’t know, you tell me, Richie-whisperer.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bev.”

Eddie passed her the tape and knelt to look under Richie’s bed for more incriminating things to whip out at his party to embarrass him. He found a shoebox, which was confusing to Eddie because Richie owned exactly two pairs of shoes and the ones he wasn’t wearing currently were thrown on a heap of clothes by his bedroom door. Eddie knew he shouldn’t pry, but he couldn’t help himself. His fingers moved of their own accord and slipped off the lid.

Inside the box was a mountain of paper scraps and napkins, and Eddie immediately recognised them as the notes he’d been leaving Richie at work. He giggled quietly to himself as he looked at the dumb drawings and stupid Haikus and even the random napkin dick that he’d completely forgotten about.

“What’s going on down there?” Bev’s voice drifted across the room.

“What? Nothing!”

_Smooth._

Eddie quickly put the shoebox back where he found it and got up to see Beverly standing with one arm full of cassette tapes and the other hand on her hip. She looked amused with him, one eyebrow raised slightly and a gentle smirk on her face.

“Let’s go grab some alcohol,” Eddie suggested quickly, ducking out of the room before Beverly could question him about the giggling.

On Saturday afternoon, Richie was supposed to come to Eddie’s house and the two of them would head over to Mike’s together while the others set up the barn. They’d told Richie they’d all hang out with him on his birthday, of course, but the extent of the party was hopefully unbeknownst to him. Eddie was not surprised at all to check his watch and see Richie was nearly half an hour late. When his beat-up green wreck of a car finally rounded the corner, Eddie was just about ready to go off at him. Of course, Richie would turn up late to his own fucking birthday party.

The car pulled up beside Eddie and he opened the door aggressively, throwing the gift bag at the passenger seat floor with a huff. He whipped his head up to yell at Richie, but the words got caught in his throat when he saw his friend’s red-rimmed eyes and clenched jaw.

“Richie, what happened?” Eddie asked, anger instantly fading away to make room for concern.

The engine was still on and Richie started driving as soon as the door was closed. The radio was on, music playing softly and keeping an awkward silence from falling over the car. Richie didn’t speak for several minutes, and Eddie let him take his time. He wondered if he had another fight with his mother, or maybe his father had a go at him this time.

Richie sniffled, then tried to cover it up with a laugh and a cough. “Fucking Tammy. Don’t ever get a girlfriend, Eds, it fucking sucks.”

 _Won’t be a problem_ , he wanted to say. “What did she do?” he said instead.

“She forgot my fucking birthday.”

“She… But you’ve been talking about it all week. The rest of us were thinking about sewing your lips together so you’d finally shut up about it.”

“Yeah, exactly, which is why I can barely believe this shit. She came over today to hang out after my shift and when I started getting ready to come pick you up, she had the nerve to lecture me about spending more time with my friends than with her. I asked her if she wanted to come to the party and she had no idea what I was talking about.” Richie scoffed and shook his head. “I guess this is the push I needed.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

“I… I was thinking about breaking up with her.”

This definitely surprised Eddie, his brows shooting up in shock. “Really?” He almost sounded hopeful, which was both ridiculous and stupid, and cleared his throat. “I thought you guys were doing great. You were just saying the other day how much you liked her and—”

“I know what I said,” Richie cut in, turning onto the road where the farm was. His voice was quieter when he continued, “And I do, I _did_ , at least, I did really like her. But I-I haven’t exactly been…”

Richie paused for so long that Eddie wondered if he was going to finish the sentence or just let it hang in the air. They pulled up to the barn next to Bill’s car and Richie killed the engine. He cleared his throat.

“Well, you know me, Eds! Can’t keep the Trashmouth tied down for too long!” Richie exclaimed brightly, almost giving Eddie whiplash with the jarring contrast to his tone of voice just a few minutes ago. “Probably shoulda let ‘er off then ‘n’ there, aye? Can’t lead the fine lassie on for too long! Well, come on, Eddie Spaghetti, we’ve a party to attend!”

Richie hopped out of the car before Eddie could protest and ran around to the passenger side. He opened the door and grabbed the gift bag, waving it in Eddie’s face.

“Ooh, what’s in the bag, Spaghetti Man? Somethin’ special for little old me?”

Eddie got out of the car and tilted his head up slightly to look at Richie. “Nothing about you is little, Tozier.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Eddie sighed, willing the reddening of his cheeks to stop.

“ _Oh_ , is that so?” Richie smirked and winked at him, tilting his chin down to try to meet Eddie’s eye.

“Yeah, yeah, I walked into that one, shut up.”

“You’re mighty cute when you’re flustered, Eds.”

“I said shut up. Let’s just go inside. We’re already so late.”

Richie hummed. “Late, are we? Thought this was just a casual gathering.”

“Richie…”

“Don’t worry, Eds, I’ll act all surprised for them.”

The barn was dark, but Eddie could see the moonlight reflecting off the fairy lights scattered around the building. He couldn’t hear their friends, so he suspected they were hiding in various places behind posts and crates and hay. Richie was walking one step ahead of him, and he felt his hand brush against his fingers, clenching and grasping.

“C’mere,” Richie whispered, taking Eddie’s hand in his. “I may have forgotten where the light switch is.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Eddie found the light with his other hand and flicked it on.

“SURPRISE!”

Everyone jumped out from their hiding spots beside the two boys, arms in the air and grins on their faces. Stan blew a party popper and Bev rushed up to Richie immediately to engulf him in a hug. Bill and Mike appeared from behind the snacks and presents table and Ben was right behind Beverly.

“Happy seventeenth, Rich!” she squealed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

While the rest of their friends greeted and wished Richie, Eddie slipped away to add his gift bag to the pile of presents, poured a cup of punch and another of whisky cola, and headed back over to Richie. Mike turned on the fairy lights as Bev started the music, INXS filtering through the speakers they’d set up with a bunch of extension cords.

Eddie held up the drinks in front of Richie. “Take your pick, Trashmouth.”

Richie glanced between the two cups, deliberating. “Hmm, I pick… the Spaghetti!” He grabbed both drinks from Eddie and downed them successively, threw the plastic cups to the side and grabbed both of Eddie’s hands, dragging him onto the makeshift dance floor. Eddie went willingly.

As the night went on, and as everyone got more and more drunk, Eddie found himself standing by the stereo system, squinting in the dark at the pile of cassette tapes to find his song. He eventually gave up and put in one of the _Spaghetti_ mixes, hoping it’d be on there. He turned around and the rest of them were dragging chairs into the centre of the room in a circle because apparently someone had yelled, “Truth or dare time!” Eddie honestly didn’t mind the game, except when Richie dared him to do disgusting things like lick people’s feet. He turned the music volume down slightly and brought a chair over, ended up sitting between Stan and Bev and across from Richie.

The flow of the game did not last long. Richie’s mind ran at a hundred miles an hour and after only a few questions were asked (Bill had to strip down to his underwear and Stan admitted he’d cheated on a test before), he started blabbering about something that no one was listening to (pizza, maybe?) and singing along to whatever song was currently playing. He was definitely the most drunk out of all of them, with Eddie close behind, but together their gang had gone through the entire bowl of punch and nearly half of the spirits.

“Trashmouth! It’s nearly your turn, pay attention,” Beverly said, pointing to him and then to Ben.

“Bring it on, Benny Boy! Ain’t nothin’ you can ask of me that I wouldn’t tell ya myself.”

“Relax, Richie. Bev is going ffffirst, th-then you,” Bill said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Mike. Ask her.”

“Dare!” Bev chose.

Mike ran his thumb and forefinger over his chin a few times. “I dare you to make out with anyone in this room, except Ben.”

“Oh god.” Beverly looked around the group, eyes resting on Bill for a moment.

“I nominate myself, Marsh!” Richie piped up, throwing a hand in the air. “I’ve obviously had the most experience and am clearly such a ladies’ man. I’ll show you a wild ride.”

“Jesus Christ, fine, let’s just get this over with.”

“Hey! If you don’t wanna, may I suggest Eddie Spaghetti or Stan The Man? Those two virgins are in desperate need of a good mackin’ and who better to have their first smooch with than a good friend?”

Eddie huffed. “Just ‘cause we don’t talk about our sex lives as much as you, doesn’t—”

“Being a virgin is not an insult, Richard,” Stan said, cutting off Eddie before he got too far into his rant. “Eddie and I are proud to respect ourselves enough to not throw ourselves at anyone who bats an eyelid at us, unlike some.”

“I respect myself pllllenty.” Richie took a long sip from his cup filled with god knew what. “And more importantly, I take a girl out to dinner before I fuck her.”

Beverly jumped off her chair and walked over to Richie. “Okay! Great talk, guys, but let’s do this shit and move on. Rich?” She plopped down on Richie’s thighs, both her legs hanging off one side. “What are the rules, Mike?”

“Uh, ten seconds with tongue?”

Richie grinned. “Hells yeah. You know, Bev, it’s real weird you and me have never done this before, what with us clearly being the two hottest members of the Los—”

Bill and Mike started cheering and laughing when Beverly stuck her tongue down Richie’s throat and he yelped in surprise. Eddie had the decency to look away after a couple of seconds, after Richie’s eyes slid shut and he parted his lips and his long fingers gripped Bev’s waist and shit, was it just hot in here or was Eddie just dehydrated? He looked at Ben, who was watching, looking partially amused and maybe a little turned on. Bill and Mike were still laughing and counting, and Stan was watching Eddie. Eddie’s brows furrowed and he mouthed _what_ but then the kiss was over and the others were cheering.

“Ten!”

Beverly was smirking as she walked back to her seat and kissed Ben, and Eddie looked back at Richie, whose glasses were askew and cheeks red. Eddie swallowed, breath catching in his throat when Richie locked eyes with him and winked.

“How’s it feel, Benjamin, having your girl converted to the Trashmouth Tongue fan club?”

Stan sniggered. “Don’t flatter yourself, Richie. That club consists of exactly three people.”

“Stanley! It’s my fucking birthday and this ‘s how you treat me?”

“You’ve only k-k-k-kissed three – well, four p-people?” Bill asked. He had put his shirt back on at some point.

“Wow, Richie, guess the whole ten inch bullshit was all a big lie,” Bev added smugly.

“Guys! D’you not hear what I said? It’s my birthday! It’s s'posed to be Have Fun With Richie Day not Fucking Harass Richie Day.”

“Have you ever actually had sex, Richie?” Ben leaned forward to ask.

“I pick dare! Enough with the questions.”

“No surprises there,” Stan mumbled.

“I dare you to tell us if you’ve actually had sex before.” Ben was smirking as he took a sip of his drink, and everyone else was suddenly silent. Eddie didn’t know why his heart rate sped up.

“‘Course I have,” Richie answered instantly.

“Really?” Bill was smirking as well as Bev and Ben. “Who w-with and when?”

“With whom,” Stan muttered into his cup, turning his body to face Eddie a little more.

Everyone was looking at Richie with smug grins on their faces, just waiting for him to crack. Eddie actually wasn’t even sure if Richie _had_ had sex before or not. It wasn’t really something they talked about, except for that one time when he started dating Tammy, but that was _months_ ago.

“Tam-Tammy. Obviously. Y’know, a few, uh, weeks ago. On Valentine’s Day, ‘cause I’m a romantic little shit.”

“I think you’re a lying little shit, Rich,” Mike said, eyebrows raised. “You know most of us haven’t, right? We aren’t called The Losers Club for no reason.”

“I think all of us, actually,” Ben said slowly, looking around the room.

“W-We-Well…”

“Oh my god, Bill, really?!” Eddie all but squealed, speaking for the first time since before Richie and Beverly kissed.

Bill shrugged with a small smile and looked down at his feet bashfully. “Yeah.”

“Dude!” Richie clapped him on the back. “That’s so great. Join the club.”

“Ri-Richie, you don’t have to l-l-lie to us. We don’t care about sssstuff like that.”

“This conversation is getting far too serious for my liking.”

“It’s still your turn, Rich, and you haven’t answered my question honestly.”

“Okay, fine!” Richie threw his hands in the air in defeat, suddenly seeming much more sober. “I haven’t fucked anyone! I may be unfairly attractive and funny but I’m still a fucking Loser. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Stan leaned forward. “We just want you to be _honest_ with _all of us_ , that’s all.”

Eddie was confused by that emphasis and was about to ask what the fuck Stan meant, but Richie was busy glaring at him. Stan shrugged, met Richie’s glare, until Richie caved and got up, stalking over to the drinks table. He poured a strong mixed drink and downed it in seconds, then poured another one. Richie turned around and pointed at Stan and Eddie. “Still eaten more pussy than you goody-two-shoes, at least.”

“Ugh, Rich,” Beverly groaned.

“I will have y’all know I am fuckin’ amazing at giving oral.”

Eddie scrunched his face up in a grimace. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

“It’s really not. I can show you if you want, Eds.”

Before Eddie had the chance to be horrified or retort, his song came on. His eyes lit up at the same time Richie’s did, conversation completely forgotten, and Beverly was suddenly out of her seat, grabbing Eddie’s hands, and the three of them were on the dance floor before the intro music finished.

Richie threw his hands in the air and started singing, not too badly, Eddie might’ve added. “ _Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade_ .” Eddie giggled and dropped a hand from Beverly’s to take one of Richie’s and they formed a circle. “ _Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away_. Hit it, Bev!”

The volume was turned up a lot and the others joined them on the dance floor, even Stan, who must have had more to drink than they realised. Ben came up behind Beverly and put his hands on her hips, breaking their dance circle, so Richie made grabby hands at Eddie.

“ _I’ve done alright up to now, it’s the light of day that shows me how_ ,” Bev sang, not quite as well as Richie, but it was definitely more within her range than his. The music was thumping in Eddie’s ears, and he could more easily watch Bev mouth the words than actually hear her singing. “ _And when the night falls, loneliness calls_. Take it away, Eddie!”

Richie turned around and tapped his shoulder so that Eddie could jump on his back, throw a fist in the air while the others hooted and cheered, and Eddie practically shouted, “ _Oh! I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat with somebody!_ ” He wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders and held on tightly, still singing/screaming at the top of his lungs. “ _Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody! With somebody who loves me!_ ”

When he hopped down, Richie spun him around and kept singing. His laughter and obvious joy from dancing around stupid with Eddie was infectious, and Eddie grinned back, cheeks starting to hurt. Richie’s hands were on his waist and he was swivelling Eddie’s body as he moved until Eddie got the message and started swinging his hips in time with the beat.

One of Eddie’s hands came up to Richie’s shoulder and the other flew into the air, head tilted back as he sang. When the song’s key change was approaching, Eddie started jumping up and down with both hands on Richie’s upper arms and Richie joined him, fingers gripping his waist as they danced together. They shouted the lyrics in each others’ faces, Richie’s grin just as wide as Eddie’s. He was watching Eddie’s mouth move around the lyrics, eyes shining with happiness and something Eddie couldn’t recognise.

_Don’t you wanna dance with me baby?_

_Don’t you wanna dance with me boy?_

When the song ended, Richie dragged Eddie off to get them more drinks as David Bowie’s voice filled the room.

“Duuuude, I love this song!” Richie knocked back two vodka shots in a row, then poured another for himself and a few for Eddie. “How’d you guys get all my fav’rite songs?”

Eddie giggled. “Me and Bev may or may not ‘ve snuck into your room the other day and stole a buncha your mixtapes,” he confessed, the alcohol forcing the words out of his mouth before he could really think about them.

“Eds, you li’l devil. Come dance with me?” Richie put the empty shot glass back on the table and extended his hand to Eddie.

He put down his own glass and stared at Richie’s hand for a few moments. “We were jus’ dancin’,” he said dumbly.

“I know, but I wanna dance more. I like dancing with you.”

Eddie would later tell himself that it was entirely the alcohol’s fault that he reached out and took his best friend’s hand, that he let himself be led onto the dance floor again for a much slower song. He would say he was tipsy, drunk even, and that’s why he ran his hands up Richie’s arms and locked them around his neck, why he let Richie’s hands fall to his waist again as they swayed in a way that was entirely different from their dancing earlier.

_Though nothing will drive them away_

_We can be heroes_

_Just for one day_

Richie’s face was so close, Eddie could have lifted onto his toes and kissed him. Part of him that was very drunk almost wanted to, but as he played that scene out in his intoxicated mind, he saw Richie step back with disgust, wipe his mouth and tell Eddie not to touch him ever again. He didn’t even know if he actually wanted to kiss Richie or if he was just drunk out of his mind, yet now that the thought had crossed his mind, it wasn’t going anywhere. He was drunk, that was all. He was only letting himself do this, be this close, because he was drunk and couldn’t stop himself if he tried, but kissing Richie would be taking it a hundred steps too far. He could allow himself this, and nothing else.

So Eddie stepped closer until his chest pressed against Richie’s, knowing the birthday boy was also completely wasted and would probably forget all of this in a few hours when he inevitably passed out somewhere in the barn. Richie was breathing in Eddie’s ear, and Eddie smiled when he started singing softly.

“ _And the guns shot above our heads, and we kissed as though nothing could fall. And the shame was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever_.”

The words hit so close to home and Eddie’s chest tightened, as did his fingers at the base of Richie’s neck, tangling in soft curly hair. He turned his head against Richie’s chest and he could hear his heartbeat, loud and quick against his ear, just like Eddie’s felt, and he wondered if Richie could feel it, too. Feel Eddie’s heart pounding between them in the same way, feel this moment, feel the lyrics wash over them in waves, feel like Eddie was feeling. He had been avoiding these thoughts for so long and they were finally being pulled, forced to the front of his mind, as much as he had tried to lock them away. And Eddie thought, drunkenly, feeling Richie’s lips mumbling lyrics against his ear and his ribcage about to explode with so many overwhelming emotions, that there was no way this didn’t mean anything – to him or to Richie. Eddie would just never be brave enough to do anything about it.

_We can be heroes_

_Just for one day_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this chapter, I just really wanna write something where Went and Mags are the best fucking parents in the world <3


	7. Broken mind, broken heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April - May 1993. Richie has an emotional crisis. Eddie has fallen in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I say this every time but thank you everyone who consistently leaves such lovely comments on every chapter. I keep the notification emails and read them sometimes when I don't feel like writing cause its so heartwarming. Honestly, you guys are the best <3333
> 
> Couple of warnings for this chapter just in case: mild drug use (marijuana) and references to suicidal thoughts. I’ve added these to the tags as well so I probably won’t mention them in every chapter from now on (unless that’s something you guys want ofc)

Finals were in less than two months and Richie was already stressing out. He and Eddie had been having study sessions at least twice a week or whenever Richie didn’t have shifts at the pizza shop. He’d racked up a pretty decent amount in savings, but realised about halfway into the second semester that he’d have to cut back on work if he wanted to maintain his grades.

Breaking up with Tammy had seemed harder for Richie than Tammy herself and she was the one getting dumped. In the end, Richie felt relieved. He liked Tammy, really, but after about two months he started to think about Eddie constantly again, and he couldn’t keep lying to her like that. Now that he was single, his thoughts had free reign over Eddie Kaspbrak, yet he found himself too focused on school or work to indulge in those thoughts too often. He figured he was just so stressed that he didn’t have the energy to think about holding Eddie’s hand or maybe sucking his dick.

Yeah, that was a new thing, apparently. Richie had been well aware for at least a couple of years that he had romantic crushes on boys, even a few that weren’t Eddie, but this was the first time he’d really thought of another guy in such an explicitly sexual way – he figured one day he might sleep with a dude and he definitely checked out some of the boys at school (much more discreetly after the Connor Bowers incident), but this was at a whole new level. In the few weeks before he came to the decision to end things with Tammy, right before things started getting sexual between them, Eddie fucking Kaspbrak had popped into Richie’s head one night when he was alone and busy in his room. He had shoved that thought far away immediately and was very annoyed with his dick for being so damn excited about it. When things started getting more heated with Tammy and Richie’s spank bank became more elaborate and specific, Richie’s mind began to substitute Tammy’s lips or hands with Eddie’s, and he eventually stopped trying to ignore those thoughts. The first time Richie had a hand around his dick with the sole thought in his mind being Eddie, he knew he couldn’t keep lying to Tammy without hating himself even more. He already had a difficult enough time keeping his head on straight and lying to Eddie and Tammy, even simply lies of omission, had started to take its toll and he just couldn’t continue doing it.

He’d told her the day after his birthday; she didn’t cry, just frowned, sad and confused, and it broke Richie’s heart a little. He had almost been tempted to take it all back and keep being a shitty boyfriend just to keep that expression off her face. He had almost been tempted to lose himself in tequila and go to Emily’s house for a rebound make out session or some shit. He had been very tempted to crawl into Eddie’s window and cry into his neck and drown in his scent like the fucking weirdo he was.

Richie had done none of those things. He’d instead found himself at the Uris’ place and had ripped into Stan for prompting him to come out to their friends. Stan, of course, had denied saying any such thing, which only made Richie more furious with him.

“I told you that shit in confidence, Stanley. It’s not your fucking place to say things like that in front of everyone, even if they had no idea what you were talking about.”

“I was just saying that maybe you would feel better about the whole thing if you shared it with people who care about you. They’re not going to give a shit if you’re gay or whatever, Richie, because it makes no difference! It made no difference to me and it won’t to Bill or _Eddie_ or anyone else.”

“You don’t fucking know that! It might be the nineties but we still live in fucking Derry. You don’t know what ideas their parents have forced into their heads or what ideas they’ve come up with themselves.”

“If you’re talking about Sonia—”

“Stop trying to give me advice on this, Stan. You have no fucking idea how this feels.”

“Don’t I?”

That response had given Richie pause and he and Stan had just stared at each other for several moments.

“Do you?”

Stan’s gaze had then dropped. “I don’t know.”

“Right, well, until you figure it out, shut your fucking trap.”

He’d then stormed out, driven to the quarry and sat on the edge of the cliff, and cried like the little bitch baby he was. Richie hadn’t really spoken to Stan since, had sort of been avoiding Eddie since their dumbass drunk slow dancing, and clearly couldn’t go running back to Tammy’s and beg for forgiveness. His chest ached and he felt empty inside. Even now, surrounded by his friends at school, Richie’s mouth was moving but his mind was elsewhere and he felt so alone.

It was lunch time, and he was in the middle of telling a long winded joke about a punch bowl when Beverly came up to the table and slammed a piece of paper down in front of the Losers. Richie snapped out of his long winded train of thought and looked down at what she was showing them.

_JUNIOR PROM_

“We going?” she quizzed them, looking between Bill and Richie, Bill because his opinion mattered to everyone else and Richie likely because he, like Bev, loved a good party.

Eddie groaned dramatically. “Do we have to? Can’t we ditch and have our own party? Make a bonfire or drive to the beach and go skinny dipping or some shit. Anything would be bett—”

“Skinny dipping?” Stan interrupted. “Have you finally gone insane? The Eddie we know would rather die than expose his entire body to the filthy water of a foreign place.”

“What? No! I just… wanna live a little.”

“As tantalising as that sounds, I wanna go to prom,” Beverly cut in. “Richie, Ben, come on, you’re with me, right?”

“That’s cheating!” Eddie protested. “You and Ben should count as one vote because you’re always going to choose the same thing.”

“I’m actually not too keen on prom, to be honest,” Ben said. Beverly whipped her head around, mouth agape.

“Ooh, blasphemy,” Richie sniggered. “We’re witnessing the very first Benverly showdown, everyone! Someone make popcorn.”

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie snapped.

“Yeah, shut up, Richie,” Bev continued. “I know you’re in already, so you have no reason to open your mouth.”

“Mrs K would beg to differ.” Richie wiggled his tongue between his index and ring finger and Eddie gagged.

“Are you going to be making ‘your mom’ jokes for your whole life?” Mike piped up.

“As long as I’m dickin’ down Mrs K, so that’s a _hard_ yes.”

“Guys, please. Are we v-vo-voting on this or not?”

Everyone turned to Bill expectantly.

“Okay, those in fa-favour of going to prom, raise your h-h-hand.”

Richie’s hand went up, along with Beverly, Mike and Bill’s.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie groaned.

“Wait till prom night, Eds, then ask me again.”

Beep beeps sounded all around him.

Prom with the whole gang did sound rather appealing, but Richie was now faced with another problem. While Stan and Eddie may have been happy to attend prom without dates, Richie was not. He wanted to have a girl with him, someone to dance and drink with when he and Beverly inevitably spiked the punch. Someone to keep him from doing something stupid like slow dancing with Eddie again. Although, he probably could manage that one on his own, because even with spiked punch there was no way anyone was getting blackout drunk at a school dance and dancing with another boy in front of all their peers was not something he’d be doing unless he was wildly intoxicated.

His other issue was his reputation. Anyone who knew Richie would have said that he was a fun and chatty dude with a good sense of humour (debatable), that he didn’t give a shit about anything except maybe his weird, loser friends, but even that was questionable since they always seemed annoyed with him because of his inappropriate jokes and shitty accents. Richie liked this reputation. Being that loud, funny kid his whole life meant that most people never really looked any deeper. Most people would never know about his super gay thoughts or self-hatred or fear of being forgotten, and he planned to keep it that way. Even amongst their friends, Richie always had walls up. He was the comic relief in the group, the one always expected to laugh things off and rattle off joke after joke until he got beep beeped.

His train of thought was getting very intense given that he was just thinking about prom dates, but he was here now so he might as well continue.

Richie realised a while ago that being The Funny Guy who frequently crossed the line and got told to shut up constantly was probably not helping with his whole _I am the worst person in the world and deserve to be treated like shit_ thing he’d been on for a few years, but it was a hell of a lot better than opening up and having his friends dig through his head and find the literal trash that had made its home there. Even thinking about Eddie truly seeing him was terrifying, and Eddie had seen Richie at nearly the height of his vulnerability the most out of any of his friends. Apart from Eddie, however, most of them hadn’t even seen Richie _be_ emotional for years, probably since That Summer. Except Stan. Stan was a piece of shit, though, and Richie only caved in his oldest friend’s presence occasionally because Stan badgered him to talk about his feelings so much. Fat lot of good it had done him.

Richie had allowed his three best friends to see different parts of his broken mind because he knew the things they would listen to him talk about without judgement, without trying to provide advice or tell him how to live his life (except Stan, because once again, Stan was a piece of shit). Beverly understood how much fucked up parents could hurt someone and was generally just amazing at making him feel better. Stan knew… lots of things. Richie wasn’t even sure how he let himself talk about his feelings in front of Stan, but it was usually in the dark at a sleepover or while they were drunk or Richie was high and the tiredness, alcohol or weed lowered his inhibitions just enough for the floodgates to open and his fucking soul to pour out for the world (Stan) to see. And Eddie. Eddie was there for everything else. Eddie was the one Richie cried in front of, into his chest or neck, into his own hands while Eddie held him. Eddie was there with unspoken comfort. They did not often talk about the things that bothered them, just being in each others’ presence was enough most of the time, and when they did talk, when Richie held his tongue long enough to not make a joke about everything under the sun, it was brief, they stammered their way through the hard stuff, squeezed each others’ hands and allowed the touch of skin against skin to make it better.

His mind had gotten so off track. Prom dates. Richie’s dilemma with prom dates was that he did not know whom to ask. He spent days thinking about it, mulling over the options in his head and getting absolutely nowhere with it.

He could probably ask Tammy, but she was a bit of a skank and probably had another boyfriend already, so maybe not. He could possibly ask Emily, because they still talked in class and could definitely be considered friends even though he’d dated one of her besties and sometimes she smiled at him in a way that made his insides do backflips. Or, he could make his way through all three members of that friendship group and ask Samantha Nikolaou.

He pushed away the thought of asking Eddie before it even fully entered his head.

Temples beginning to hurt, Richie needed a break from so many conflicting and confusing thoughts that made his head spin and his chest ache. He leaped off his bed and grabbed his keys from his desk, running downstairs and out the door before his father could question where he was going at this time of night. It wasn’t even that late but Went disliked seeing Richie sneak out, which was usually why he waited until his parents were asleep before sneaking off to Eddie’s.

His destination wasn’t Eddie’s house tonight, though. Seeing the bane of his existence would only add fuel to the fire that was his mind and Richie would probably drink himself to death if he had to think about Eddie anymore right now. He thought briefly about seeing Beverly to smoke some weed, but then remembered she and Ben had borrowed Linda’s car to go to a drive in movie and as funny as it’d be to crash their date, he suspected they wouldn’t see it as such and might ignore him for the next two weeks.

Fine, he’d go smoke by himself then.

Because that wasn’t sad at all.

Beverly kept a stash in an empty cigarette box in the glove compartment of Richie’s car for convenience, and he never realised how much he loved that girl until right now. He drove to the quarry, because it wasn’t such a cold night for April and dangling his legs off the edge of the cliff while getting high seemed like the perfect idea. And if he fell off and drowned, ah well, Eddie would know all Richie’s savings would go to him and Mike would probably take his car and Bill his stereo and the rest of them would have fun burning his clothes or some shit. It’s not like Richie would know or care.

Half a joint in and staring dazedly up at the stars, Richie thought about lying down and just falling asleep out here. He’d be woken up bright and early when the sun rose and would make it home before anyone realised he’d been gone all night. Or he’d pass out and throw up mid REM cycle and choke on his own vomit and no one would come looking for him. He recognised this train of thought as starting to get dangerous and leading him to shut his friends out for weeks, finding himself exactly where he was right now every night in the same state of mind until he put his mask back on and returned to their beloved Trashmouth. It was not a good place to be, mentally, and he knew the starting signs well enough by now.

Richie had to leave. This was exactly how he’d come to the conclusion that he had to run away from Derry in the first place. Everything about this town reeked of cruelty and sadness and shitty, uncaring adults and horrors in the newspaper that no one even blinked at and it had been weighing down on each and every one of the Losers’ Club for years. Richie often wondered if they all felt as empty as he did and covered it up in different ways.

He got up and went back to his car, sat in the driver’s seat with the window down for several minutes contemplating where to go. He definitely didn’t want to go home just yet, but he didn’t want to be alone lest his brain continue to spiral and he was in no mood to see Eddie. He supposed that only left one place, really, as much as it would hurt his pride to be the one to cave and apologise. Joint still between his teeth, Richie shifted gears and started to drive.

The Uris’ house was single storey, which meant that with his foggy brain, Richie did not have to scale any trees or buildings to get to Stan’s bedroom. He went around to the back of the house and saw Stan sitting up in bed, reading glasses on with a book illuminated by the soft, yellow glow of his lamp. Richie knocked gently, knowing Stan wasn’t used to him showing up at his window at midnight like Eddie was. Stan jolted slightly and whipped his head around, groaning with an eye roll when he saw Richie waving at him. He took off his reading glasses, wiped them, put them in their case, case into the nightstand drawer, placed a bookmark to save his spot and put the book in the drawer as well. He really was making Richie wait for interrupting him. Stan then pointed at the door and got out of bed, leaving the room. Richie got the idea and went back around to the front of the house, stomping out the remains of his joint on the road.

“My bedroom window is an awning,” Stan whispered when he opened the front door. “Leave your shoes outside, please.”

“Sir yes sir.” Richie obeyed and closed the door quietly behind himself, following Stan back to his bedroom.

“To what do I owe the displeasure of seeing you at this hour?” Stan asked after sitting back down on his bed. Richie remained standing, fingers twitching by his side and Stan’s nose scrunched up. “Um, what is that smell?”

“‘Tis weed, my dude. Want some?”

Stan gawked at him. “Are you insane?!” he hissed. “You stink. Get out of my house right now.”

“Aw, come on, Staniel, live a little.”

“I live plenty and would not like to die anytime soon.”

Richie scoffed. “Weed sure as dick ain’t gonna kill you. Besides, I already put it out. I knew you wouldn’t approve ‘cause you’re a royal pain in the ass.”

He sat on the bed, lay back and tugged Stan down with him. They stayed there in silence for a few tense minutes, staring up at the ceiling, and Richie’s insides clenched as he waited for the penny to drop, for one of them to bring up their fight. There was no way that he or Stan would be able to move on without saying something, without making a jab or snide comment at the other, and Richie sure as hell was not going to be the one to do it.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

And there it was. Richie shot up, incredulous, and scowled down at Stan. “Forgive _me_? You’re the one who tried to tell our friends about me!”

Stan huffed and sat up as well. “I was trying to help you and you yelled at me.”

“Cry me a river. _He yelled at me_ ,” Richie mocked. “You sound like a fucking pussy, you know that, right?”

“Oh, and you would know all about fucking pussy, wouldn’t you?”

Richie’s jaw clenched. “Shut the _fuck_ up.”

“Richie, you have to talk about this. You can’t keep—”

“Yes, I fucking can keep _whatever_ about it. It’s my business, not yours, not your secret to tell.”

“It doesn’t have to be a secret! You _feel_ you have to keep it a secret but you don’t, and I get that you’re scared, but—”

“No, Stanley, you don’t fucking get it. We’ve been through this – stop telling me how to feel.”

“Stop interrupting me.”

Richie inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, willing his anger away and settling back down on the bed until the hot, bubbling sensation in his chest relaxed. Stan stayed sitting. When Richie spoke again, most of the venom was gone from his voice. “I didn’t want to tell you, you know? It fucking terrified me when you figured it out.”

“I know, I could see it in your face. But you don’t have to be scared, Rich.”

“If you say that one more fucking time—”

“Let me _finish_ . I can’t tell you what to do. I’m not trying to force you to do anything. I just think that honesty is the key to any relationship, and I _know_ the Losers would accept you and I think that would make it easier for you to accept yourself. You won’t have to keep pretending.”

Richie frowned. “I’m not really pretending. Lying by not explicitly admitting that I wanna fuck dudes, too, sure. I get that I’m a freak, Stan, you don’t need to remind me.”

Stan’s lips parted and his eyes widened as something dawned on him. He tisked. “Oh. Bisexual.”

“What now?”

Stan lay down and turned to face him, propping his head up by his hand. “Liking girls and boys – it’s called bisexual, Richie.”

“There’s a word for it?” he squeaked and his heart rate picked up.

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed together and the corner of his mouth quivered as he let out a sigh, looking like he pitied Richie. “Of course there is. Have you seriously never read your favourite boy Bowie’s interview about it?”

Richie’s face screwed up. “Your first mistake was assuming I read for fun.”

“It’s not for _fun_ , it’s to learn. You might have been easier on yourself and less confused if you knew you weren’t a freak, as you say.”

“I…” Richie’s breath hitched. Fucking emotions.

“It’s okay. And I’m… I’m sorry I pushed you,” Stan said through gritted teeth.

“Mm, that sounded hard for you to say.”

“Take it or leave it, Tozier. You’re not getting another one.”

Richie chuckled, allowing them to slip into silence for a while.

“How come you came here, anyway?” Stan asked.

Richie debated making up some lie about having been to all the other Losers’ houses already and seeing Stan as a last resort, but he was still riding the tail end of his high and being honest seemed like something that would appease Stan.

“I was thinkin’ about asking Eddie to prom, and then I was thinking about throwing myself off the cliff at the quarry.” It was definitely the weed that made him say it. Sober Richie would never, ever admit something as deep and dark as that.

“Rich… are you serious?” Stan leaned up to hover slightly over him, concern written all over his face through the crease of his brow and the frown of his lips.

Richie stared back at him for a moment, then shrugged and turned away from his gaze. “Never once in my life have I been serious, Stanny Boy.”

The brush-it-off comment seemed to be a deterrent enough, because Stan only looked at him for a few seconds more, eyes flickering over his face to find something telling there, which he must not have or decided against mentioning it, because he was then slowly lying back down. “So, prom with Eddie, hm?”

“Fuck off, I’m not doing it. I’d like to choose my own death, thank you, not get unwillingly beaten to a pulp by Criss and Huggins.”

“Please stop talking about your death, Richie.”

“Why, would ya miss me that much?”

Stan tilted his chin down and gave him a _look_. Richie snickered.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You now know I’m down to get groovy with guys and you want your fair share, there’s no shame in admitting it, Stanley.”

“You’d best shut up now.”

“Why? ‘Cause it’s a tad bit true, ain’t it?”

“Your language is appalling.”

“Your face is pretty.”

Stan _blushed_. “Stop it.”

“Oh my god, dude! You know, if Eddie didn’t exist, I’d definitely wanna bang you.”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“You’re lucky he does exist then.”

The fond smile on Stan’s face softened slowly. “Is that actually something you think about a lot? Having sex with Eddie?”

Richie’s jaw dropped. “Whoa, get right to the point, don’t ya? You do know I’m trying to _get over_ that, right? Don’t make me think about that Spaghetti ass more than I already do.”

“Ugh, forget I asked.”

“I do think about it, I’ll have you know.”

“Please stop, for my sanity.”

“I could mark up his perfect, tiny little body—”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“—his thighs and his _ass_ , god, his fucking ass—”

“You remember he’s my friend, too?”

“I think I’m in love with him,” Richie blurted. He covered his face with his hands as soon as the words left his mouth to avoid seeing Stan’s reaction. “Ah, fuck me.”

It was quiet for a second, and then, “I’ll pass.”

Richie huffed out a laugh, lowered his hands so just his eyes were poking out. “You’re not gonna try to make me spill to everyone again, right?” he mumbled into his fingers. His voice was weak, quiet, and he hated how vulnerable he sounded.

“Richie, of course not.” One of Stan’s hands touched his, pressing softly until he moved them from his face. “This is a lot more personal and intimate.”

Richie didn’t say anything for a bit, just let himself find comfort in his friend’s touch. They were back to staring at the ceiling while Richie gathered his thoughts and Stan let them be in silence. Long silences were something Richie was familiar with experiencing with Eddie, so this was unusual, but not unwelcome.

“I think I’ve loved Eddie for as long as I’ve known what the word meant,” he said eventually. “I probably had a crush on his stupid face the moment I saw him. And then the whole… you know… made me realise how scared I was to lose him and I just—” Richie’s voice cracked and he cursed himself internally. “I couldn’t let him out of my sight. I didn’t want that thing to come back and take him away from me before I even figured out what the hell I was feeling. I can’t—” He gulped, then whispered, “I can’t fucking lose him.”

Part of him wanted to just open his mouth and let all of their plans to run away from Derry spill out. Eddie would understand. It was _Stan_. No one could keep a secret better than he, yet Richie found himself abiding by his and Eddie’s unspoken rule, no matter how badly he wanted to blurt it all out. It would be such a weight off him if he did, but he couldn’t do that to Eddie.

“I liked Tammy, and I really liked Emily, but they weren’t Eddie, and I couldn’t help myself comparing them, even though there was no fucking point and it just made me feel like crap. I know I was a shitty boyfriend and they didn’t deserve that. That’s why I broke up with them. Both of them.” Richie laughed humourlessly, the backs of his eyes starting to burn. “Eddie thinks I dumped Emily because we didn’t click as a couple and Tammy because I wanted to date other people. He’s the only fucking person I want anything with, no matter how much I liked those girls. I fucking hate myself for it.”

“Richie, stop that,” Stan cut in. “Everyone finds different ways to get over people. You broke up with them as soon as you realised you were leading them on, as soon as you weren’t being genuine. That’s the best thing you could have done for them.” Richie scoffed but Stan ignored him and continued talking. “I said stop it. You’re allowed to have feelings, and it’s already taking a huge step just admitting everything you did. You’re on the right path, Rich. So, no more of this self-deprecating bullshit. You aren’t a freak. You’re just an idiot in love, and that’s okay. You’re taking steps to get over it.”

Richie closed his eyes when he felt the first wave of tears roll down his cheeks. He sucked in a breath and Stan turned to look at him. He was aware that Stan hadn’t really seen him cry properly in years and it’d be rather shocking to see. And Stan _must_ have been in shock, because he slowly inched closer to Richie, slid one arm behind his head and the other across his clavicle, hands grasping where they met at Richie’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Richie,” Stan murmured, his cheek pressing against the side of Richie’s head. “You’re okay. You’re allowed to cry. There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

Richie _sobbed_. It ripped from his throat, like it had been trapped there, waiting for permission to be let out. He turned his head and pressed his nose against Stan’s chest, glasses digging into his face uncomfortably, shoulders trembling under his friend’s grip. His tears soaked into Stan’s top and he knew that in any other situation Stan would be furious, but he said nothing, and that only made Richie cry harder.

It could have been five minutes or an hour that Richie cried into his best friend’s chest, Stan’s hand rubbing soothingly up and down his back the whole time. He clutched at Stan’s top, feeling pathetic for crying so much over something so stupid. Richie sucked in a breath, finally settling after his ridiculous break down. Staying close to Stan, he slipped off his glasses and started wiping them on his own shirt. He felt so exposed and raw and he didn’t like it all. Best friend or not, Stan didn’t need to see him like this. This kind of behaviour was reserved for nights in his own bedroom, head under the covers while he tried not to suffocate himself.

Richie sniffled. “I really would wanna date you if it wasn’t for Eddie,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Shut up, Richie,” Stan snapped weakly, smiling into his mop of hair.

“So what I’m hearing isn’t _no_.” He moved back and turned away from Stan to stare at the ceiling. “Does this mean we’re finally gonna talk about what you said the other week about knowing how this shit feels?”

Stan mirrored Richie’s position. “Definitely not,” he said.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s your turn to get all mushy on me and tell me things I don’t wanna hear.”

“I am more than happy to listen to your problems, Richie.”

“Don’t change the subject, Stanley.”

“We are done having this conversation.”

“Pretty please? I’ll get on my knees and beg if that’ll help.” Richie dropped to the floor before Stan could protest. “Maybe a good cocksucking will help you _come_ to some conclusions,” he said with a wink.

“Oh my god, you don’t listen. Get up and go to sleep or leave. It’s nearly two in the morning.” Stan folded his arms across his chest but there was the tiniest hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and Richie took that as a win.

Richie was jittery, shifting from foot to foot as he stood in front of Tammy Ferris’ door a few days later. He was going to ask her to prom. It was the best option in a shitty situation. He raised his hand for the second time to knock, chickened out again, and then bolted to his car when he heard movement behind the door. He ducked, as if that would hide him from view of whoever was about to come outside.

The door opened and there was Tammy in all her glory and… behind her was James Parker.

Of course.

Richie _knew_ he’d given up his opportunity to do stuff like ask her to prom when he ended their relationship, and he knew she and James had been fooling around for months before she started dating Richie. It should have been no surprise to see her back with her ex-whatever who would fuck her like she’d so clearly wanted Richie to do. What a fucking chicken he was indeed.

Well, cross that one off the list.

While they were busy making out on the front porch, Richie started his car and sped off before they could notice him. He eventually found himself outside Emily Whiting’s house, somehow more nervous than he was half an hour ago, and he’d stood in front of Tammy’s door for ten minutes giving himself an internal pep talk before he even considered knocking.

This time, he didn’t even make it to the door. Not because of nerves, but because Emily and Samantha Nikoloau rounded the corner as he was walking up the driveway. He’d made it to the porch when someone cleared their throat behind him.

“Richie?” came Emily’s voice and Richie spun around dramatically, stumbling over his feet. His hand shot out to grasp the porch pillar, which he then leaned against in some attempt to seem casual.

“Ems! Fancy seeing you here.”

Alright, it was not his best, but he was nervous, cut him some slack.

Emily raised an amused eyebrow, but it was Samantha who responded, hands firmly on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here, Tozier? Come to break her heart again?”

He supposed deserved that one.

Richie considered his new options for a moment. Here, in front of him, stood two girls whom he presumed were single, both of whom he shared classes with and talked to in said classes occasionally, and both of whom knew Eddie, the other variable in Richie’s prom date dilemma.

“I have in fact come to ask you a very important question, Ems,” he said, ignoring Samantha’s harsh glare.

Emily stepped closer and looked up at him, expression soft and waiting. “Yeah?”

Richie’s heart was hammering against his ribs and he reached up to adjust his glasses. “Would you, uh… Do you guys have dates for prom?”

Emily’s tongue darted out to swipe across her lips and Richie’s eyes followed the movement. She looked over her shoulder at her friend and they exchanged a brief eye-contact-conversation.

“No, we don’t,” Emily replied.

“Not sure if we’re even going, though,” Samantha added.

“Shut up, Sam,” Emily snapped, not taking her eyes off Richie.

He chuckled. “Emily, Samantha, would you like to go to prom with me and my friend Eddie?”

Emily’s teeth came to rest on her bottom lip to stifle her grin, but it peeked through regardless. “I would love to. So would Sam, she’s just too proud to say it.”

“Tell Kaspbrak I’ll be wearing purple,” Samantha snarled and brushed past them into the house.

“Jeez, what’s with the stick up her ass?” Richie snickered.

“She’s clearly jealous that I get to take the hottest guy in school to prom.”

Richie barked out a laugh. “Yowza! That’s fuckin’ funny, Ems. Thought you said you didn’t already have a hot date?”

“Oh, shut it. Your freckles and cheekbones and marvelous hair do not make up for the fact that you were a dick to me.”

“My hair is quite marvelous, yes.”

“Hey, I’m being serious.” Emily frowned. “You hurt me, Richie.”

He swallowed, eyes darting down to stare at their feet. He admired her boots, clean and well taken care of compared to his stained, holey high tops. When he looked back up at her, her head was tilted and she was watching him expectantly.

“I’m not tryna get back together with you, if that’s what you think. I just wanted to have a good night with someone I like, someone fun an-and beautiful to take dumb prom pictures with and dance up a storm with and I—” Richie inhaled, brows pinched, almost confused as the words tumbled out of his own mouth, “I missed you.” He shocked even himself with the sincerity of his tone.

Emily’s frown slowly morphed into a soft smile and Richie’s chest expanded with a fluttery warmth that the sight made him feel. She stared at him for several moments and his eyes danced around her face trying to find something to focus on that didn’t make him feel like she was trying to read his mind, figure out if he was actually being serious.

“Count me in,” she said, then pushed up onto her toes and kissed him, soft and quick, and then ducked away to go inside, leaving a dazed Richie swaying where he stood with a stupid grin on his face.

The Losers plus their dates decided to meet at Ben’s house and walk to the school, since he lived the closest, and then crash back there for the night (dates would make their own way home), since they couldn’t exactly drive or ride home punch-drunk. Richie went to pick up Eddie on his way and would then go to Emily’s house to get her and Samantha. _So I got us dates to prom_ was how he told Eddie over the phone that night it happened, and Eddie didn’t seem that annoyed or excited either way. Not thinking about it too much, Richie distractedly registered the fact that Eddie hadn’t shown much interest in dating like the rest of them other than Stan. Richie didn’t know how he would react when Eddie finally did develop an interest in girls, especially since it was highly likely they’d share classes and he might have to talk to them and think about them holding hands with Eddie and kissing Eddie and Richie’s face screwed up in disgust at those thoughts. Maybe getting Eddie a date to prom wasn’t his brightest idea.

When he pulled up at the Kaspbrak residence, he noticed Sonia’s car missing. Richie smirked and hopped out of his car, wondering if Eddie had somehow convinced his mom to go out tonight so he could attend prom without her fussing over him being out late. Richie knocked on the door, straightening his shockingly knotted bow tie and running a hand through his hair. He, Mike and Bill had gone suit shopping a few days prior, and Richie was now donned in a classic black suit with a ridiculous emerald green shirt (to match Emily’s dress, because he was not wearing a fucking boutonniere), with a brightly patterned bow tie with stupid little boats and palm trees on it. And to top it off, because his pants were slightly short on account of being so damn skinny and tall, green and purple striped socks peeked out above his ankles. Richie’s fashion sense was questionable at the best of times, but he loved making an impression and having people talk about his mismatched outfit sounded like a fantastic night. He really was a huge attention slut.

The door swung open and there was Eddie. Richie’s heart rate picked up immediately as his eyes drifted down Eddie’s body. He’d done something to his hair – Bev’s idea, Richie would guess. It was swept off his forehead and puffed up stylishly on the side. Eddie’s suit was simple, muted navy blue with a matching tie against a white shirt and a bunch of purple flowers pinned to his left lapel. In his hands was a matching corsage, and Richie’s own hands inched towards it immediately.

“Hey, hot stuff, that for me?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned brightly, distracting Eddie enough to snatch the corsage from his grip.

“Fucking give that back!” Eddie squeaked, lunging at Richie, who held his hand above his head like the literal child he was.

“Nuh uh, mine now!” He slipped it on his wrist and shook it in front of Eddie’s very unimpressed face. “We matchy matchy now, Eds! What a perfect couple we make.”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he turned his face to the side, still scowling at Richie. “Come on, idiot, we’re gonna be late otherwise.”

Emily and Samantha were waiting outside when the boys arrived, Emily’s mom excitedly trying to take candid shots of them all dolled up. Emily’s eyes lit up and her photo-ready smile grew into a wider, more genuine grin when she saw Richie and Eddie hop out of the car. Emily picked up the hem of her floor length dress and kind of hobbled in her heels across the front yard over to Richie, nearly tripping at least twice.

“Lookin’ good, Ems,” Richie commented when she got to him and took one of his hands in hers.

“Yeah, you scrub up alright yourself, Tozier.”

He heard Eddie and Samantha exchanging hellos and making awkward small talk as she accepted his corsage, slipping it onto her tanned wrist with a less-than-impressed expression. Emily noticed this too and chuckled quietly.

“Sam will probably ditch as soon as the professional photos are done,” she said, watched them for a few seconds more, before her mom started taking photos of them, gushing over their matching flowers or something. Emily took that moment, when her mom, Eddie and Samantha were all preoccupied, to lean in and press her mouth to Richie’s. He wasn’t expecting it and flinched slightly before returning the kiss, hands falling easily to her waist.

Someone cleared their throat and Emily spun around, smiling sheepishly at Samantha’s cool glare while her mom fiddled with the camera. Samantha rolled her eyes and looked away, and Emily spun back around to kiss Richie quickly before going over to her friend. Head a little foggy and dazed and feeling rather confused about what was happening, Richie ended up locking eyes with Eddie, who was watching him with some expression that Richie couldn’t place, but then Emily’s mom called Richie over for a group photo and the moment was over.

By the time they got to Ben’s house, everyone else was already there, crowded in the living room. Bill and Jessica (since when were they back together?), Ben and Beverly, Mike and Cassie, Stan and a book he was reading; a surprise to absolutely no one.

Richie cupped his hands around his mouth as soon as he walked in the door. “Trashmouth Tozier in the house, y’all! The party may begin!” Bill and Bev cheered halfheartedly and Stan rolled his eyes. Richie shook his head at his friends. “Well, fuck you all very much.”

“Come on, Ri-Rich, we’ve got Stan’s camera set up and w-w-waiting, then we can go.”

Stan walked over to the bookshelf where the camera was sitting, checked the self timer and pressed the button. They took three photos – first with everyone standing nicely and smiling, second with everyone pulling faces and doing stupid things, and third with just the Losers, featuring Bill, Ben and Bev in a Charlie’s Angels pose, Stan on Mike’s back and Richie pressing a kiss to Eddie’s temple with Eddie laughing as he tried to push him away.

Their group somehow arrived at prom on time and, as predicted, Samantha disappeared within the first twenty minutes. Richie left Eddie in Stan’s capable hands while he and Beverly went to deal with the punch spiking. Bill graciously agreed to help, stuttering his way through a conversation with the teacher guarding the snacks and drinks tables while Richie poured vodka and Bev poured rum into the punch bowl. They tossed the empty bottles and the three of them grabbed enough cups for everyone in their large group.

“Drink up, Eddie Spaghetti. Gotta loosen you up and get you onto the dance floor!”

“I am _not_ getting up there at all and no amount of stupid punch will make me.”

“Mm, what if I request some Whitney?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“I fucking would, and you know it, Eds,” Richie replied with a wink.

A very familiar Guns N Roses guitar riff boomed through the speakers and Richie’s face lit up. He downed his drink and turned to find Beverly walking towards him with a bright grin on her face. Richie grinned back, taking her hand as they went to the middle of the dance floor. Beverly struggled to twirl Richie under her arm and Richie slid onto the floor on his knees (electric air guitar style) and started singing, rather badly.

About halfway into the song, Emily, Bill and Mike joined them on the dance floor, Emily quickly taking Richie’s attention away from Beverly’s shitty dancing when she looped her arms around his neck and swayed her hips. Her long, green dress fluttered around her as she moved, and Richie’s eyes were drawn to the curve of her body, accentuated with a tighter fit around her torso and a flare from her waist down. His hands rested on her waist, feeling the silky fabric of her dress slide across his calloused fingers, blunt nails digging into her sides.

The five of them danced for a few more upbeat songs, then a ballad started playing. Mike disappeared to find Cassie and, knowing Ben would rather wax his balls than slow dance (his hatred for dancing in public far outweighed his romantic nature), Bev took Bill’s hand. Richie was fully prepared to dance with Emily to the slow song, when a leopard print dress that could only belong to one person came into his field of view.

Tammy was dragging an unwilling-looking James Parker onto the dance floor. She looked kind of ridiculous in the loud, short party dress, but Richie had never been one for animal print attire. Any other crazy print or pattern, he adored, but leopard print? Kylie Minogue could pull it off, Tammy Ferris less so. He watched the pair for a moment or two until Emily waved a hand in front of his face. Snapping his gaze back to the girl in front of him, Richie’s insides gave an unpleasant flip. He really didn’t want to be caught checking out an ex while he was with… whatever he and Emily were now. Stealing kisses throughout the past few days didn’t suddenly make them a couple again, but Richie had been abruptly reminded of his feelings for Emily that had made it so painful to end things with her the first time.

“You know, Tammy isn’t a very good girlfriend,” Emily said, putting her hands on Richie’s shoulders to begin dancing.

“I— What? I wasn’t—”

“Richie, it’s okay. I know she’s pretty and guys go crazy over her. You made a whole bunch of our friends jealous, actually, because she doesn’t usually date anyone for more than a couple of weeks.”

“Huh. Well, Ems, I am quite the catch.”

Emily smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “She usually dates guys until she sleeps with them a few times, figures out if they’re better or worse than James, decides he’s better, and goes back to him. Turns out you were completely right about that one.”

“I’m secretly a psychic, you know?”

“Psychotic, maybe.”

Richie laughed and squeezed her waist affectionately.

Emily continued, “So, simply based on the fact that _you_ broke up with _her_ , I’m guessing you were either freaking amazing, or you guys didn’t… at all.”

Richie smirked, one brow raised. “Didn’t what? C’mon, Ems, I bet you’d be so cute saying a big bad word like ‘fuck’. You said ‘dick’ the other day and that shit really turns me on.”

One of Emily’s hands moved to cover her mouth, smiling with amusement. “I see now more than ever why your friends call you Trashmouth.”

“Yep. I speak whatever random garbage comes into my head. One of my many talents,” he said with a wink.

“Oh yeah? What other talents do you have, Tozier?”

Richie leaned closer and bumped his nose against hers. “I’m pretty good at sucking face, I’ve been told.” Emily blushed, turning her face slightly so that her nose was pressed into his cheek. “Mm, and making cute people turn into tomatoes with my super slick pick up lines and colourful language. I can also play three songs on the guitar and am extremely skilled at breaking glasses. The ones on my face, not like, for drinks. Super extremely skilled. Pair number thirty-nine, this is.”

“You talk so much.”

“I have also been told that by many—mmpf.”

The kiss was chaste and over in a second but it still made Richie’s head spin. A small part of him wanted to ask Emily why she kept kissing him or what it meant to her or if she wanted to date him again. A much larger part told him to not even entertain the thought of being with her, reminding him once again that it was unfair to date someone while he had a crush on someone else. Great. Now he was an extra special freak of nature who had crushes on multiple people at the same time. He repeated Stan’s words from the other night over and over in his head, trying to shake off the feeling of being wrong and broken and in love with Eddie while also wanting to be with Emily. He was not broken. He was… unusual, but not abnormal. He was fine. Stan had said it many times. Richie was fine.

Richie was getting fucking distracted, once again.

The song had changed and he realised Emily had moved her hands to take both of his, and they were swaying together to the slightly more upbeat tune. They danced for a bit longer, Richie allowing himself to get lost in the music, the feeling of Emily’s soft body touching his every now and then. A few times Richie found himself glancing around the room to spot his friends amongst the crowd, particularly when some of their favourite songs came on – Beverly had finally convinced Ben to come onto the dance floor, Bill, Mike and their dates were sort of all bopping together near the edge of the room and Eddie and Stan were leaning against the wall near them, deep in conversation. Eddie had his cup right up against his face as Stan talked so only his eyes could be seen above the rim. He was watching Bill and the rest of them dance and Richie wondered if Eddie had been watching him and Emily at all.

He looked back down at Emily, who had her eyes closed and was mouthing the words to Celine Dion and moving her head from side to side. Richie smiled, leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead and her eyes slowly opened to look up at him. Maybe, if she kept looking at him like that, his heart would cave and ask her out again one day. Emily’s lips curved up slightly, like she could hear his thoughts and was encouraging him. Maybe ‘one day’ was now.

“Emily!”

Samantha shoved her way through the people next to them and yanked her friend’s hands from Richie’s grip. He thought she’d gone home. She looked like a mess, flustered, with smudged lipstick and frizzy hair. She paid him no mind as she spoke quickly to Emily.

“Come on, we have to go. Tammy’s puking all over the bathroom. She’s been going crazy with the punch and tried to smoke something someone dared her to and she’s super sick.” Samantha took a step backwards, dropping one of Emily’s hands. “Come on!”

“Go,” Richie said quickly, before Emily could argue. “I’ll see you at school next week. Go help your friend.”

Emily gave him a sympathetic smile and let herself be dragged off. Richie’s eyes briefly drifted down to where the girls’ hands were connected, when he realised how long he’d been dancing and how dry his throat felt. He walked over to the snacks and drinks table and downed three cups of punch, earning a suspicious look from the teacher there, when his favourite ACDC song started playing. It also happened to be Eddie’s favourite ACDC song and when he looked across the room to where the others had been before, he found Eddie’s eyes already looking his way, a cheeky grin on his face. He had no right to look that adorable.

Richie step-tapped his way across the floor, moving his head back and forth with the drum beat. He got to a giggling Eddie by the time the lyrics kicked in and they both started singing together, much to Stan’s displeasure due to his loss of a conversation partner. Richie’s hands instinctively inched towards Eddie’s, but he stopped himself, instead dropping onto one knee to dramatically throw one hand in the air, fingers in a classic rock position, and then pointed at an amused Stan when the chorus kicked in.

“ _And you! Shook me all night long!_ ”

Eddie pulled Richie up to his feet and pointed at Stan with him the second time, right as Stan jumped with his feet wide and flung both arms out to point at each of them, all three boys screeching the lyrics at the top of their lungs. They all burst into a fit of giggles and never made it through the rest of the song.

Eddie scoffed and beckoned to Richie once they’d calmed down.

“Hey, asshole, look what you’ve done to your tie. Come here, let me fix it.”

They each took a step towards each other and nearly bumped chests as Eddie reached up to fiddle with Richie’s bow tie. Eddie’s eyebrows crinkled and his mouth moved from side to side as he tugged gently at the two triangular parts, trying to straighten it. He must have decided it was achieving nothing because, with a huff, he pulled the bow out and set to retying the whole thing.

Richie’s head was facing straight ahead, his eyes looking down at Eddie, ignoring the rapid thumping of his heart as Eddie’s cute little tongue stuck out in concentration while his fingers fiddled with Richie’s collar. Richie did not notice Stan watching them fondly, too focused on Eddie’s fingers at the base of his throat. It sure would be embarrassing if he popped a boner right now because Eddie’s fingers were brushing against his neck.

Seemingly satisfied with the placement of the collar, Eddie went back to retying the bow tie, tightening and straightening it until it was perfect. Richie’s eyes intently gazed over Eddie’s features, admiring the smoothness of his lightly tanned skin, the swoop of his hair, the flecks of warmth in his brown eyes that Richie always found himself staring into and getting lost in, the soft pink tongue that was still poking out between his teeth that Richie kind of wanted to bite.

With a pleased and curt nod, Eddie looked up, clearly done with the bow tie, and caught Richie staring. Richie was so deeply absorbed in admiring Eddie that he didn’t look away.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Eddie snapped.

Richie’s brain short-circuited and he opened his mouth without thinking. “You’re so beautiful,” he blurted. He did not see Stan raise an amused eyebrow.

Eddie continued to stare at him for a few moments longer, and Richie could practically see the cogs turning in his head. Richie’s heart was now jackhammering against his chest, waiting for Eddie’s response to his stupid, _stupid_ slip up.

Eddie’s lips parted slightly as he watched Richie, blinked slowly, his mouth trembling slightly like he was about to say something and his eyes widening so marginally, Richie could only tell because they were standing so close. The corners of Eddie’s lips started to curve upwards and he closed his lips, now blinking rapidly as he dropped his head, a deep flush rising to his cheeks. Richie watched with wonder, his entire body felt like it was expanding with an overwhelming warmth and love for the boy in front of him, and when his brain caught up with him and another thought drifted into his head, this time, he didn’t push it away.

_Maybe Eddie feels the same._

Still with his head down, Eddie’s teeth were digging into his bottom lip so hard that he was bound to break the skin, and Richie, drunk on confidence from Eddie’s reaction, reached forward and touched, pulling his lip free until Eddie looked up at him through his lashes and Richie very nearly had a heart attack.

“Thanks,” Eddie croaked. “For the… not the…” He gestured randomly to their immediate surroundings and then to his face and Richie’s hand, and Richie understood.

He understood that, for some fucked up reason, he was just as important to Eddie as Eddie was to him. He understood that, no matter how Eddie may or may not feel and no matter how Richie felt, they had to keep each other like this, exactly like this, until they graduated. There was absolutely no way he could allow himself this, indulging in this fantasy of being with Eddie, of loving Eddie and having Eddie all to himself, if they were to successfully pull off their getaway plans. The risk was too high. Here, in Derry, their safety and happiness and futures were as good as fucked, and they could do nothing to jeopardise their agreement. They _had_ to follow through on their agreement and they needed each other exactly as they were to ensure that. There was no way Richie could let himself get distracted with these thoughts of Eddie, regardless of how the other felt; Richie understood that now. He couldn’t say anything or act on his feelings, because it would ruin all their hard work and destroy any chance of them getting out of here if things fell to shit between them in any manner. He couldn’t do that to himself and more importantly, far more importantly, he couldn’t do that to Eddie. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of the rest of their lives.

Eddie was still looking at Richie and Richie still hadn’t noticed Stan watching.

Richie blinked. And then he did what he always did when things got too intense.

He bolted.

As Richie pushed through the crowd of students and made his way towards the door to leave the hall, he didn’t see Eddie’s head fall and his shoulders drop. As he ran the entire way to Ben’s house to get his car, Richie didn’t see Eddie press the base of his hand to his forehead, didn’t see him slump against the wall and close his eyes. Richie did not see the tears slip down Eddie’s cheeks while he drove home, not caring that he’d been drinking and could very likely crash at any moment, and when he flung himself onto his bed in his suit and cried himself to sleep, Richie did not feel Eddie’s broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, my self indulgent, insecure-self-hating-piece-of-shit-Richie chapter. Someone give that boy a hug pls.
> 
> Bit of an update: I had some trouble with writing and getting the flow with the next few chapters which is why updates have been a bit slower, so I’m sorry about that. I was originally aiming for a chapter a week but since I’m writing 10k chapters now (but I’m really, really trying to keep below that or this fic will be 200,000 words and fuck that), I think 1.5 weeks is generally how long it’s taking me per chapter at the moment. I am going on holiday for all of next week though, so I probably won’t be writing all that much so I’m hoping the next chapter will be ready in two weeks. Sorry for the ramble!
> 
> Also pls come chat w/ me on tumblr! @bowtiescarves


	8. It had to mean something special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 1993. Eddie and Richie go on a road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I’m back and it’s Eds Spagheds time! I’m sorry for making people sad w/ the last chapter :(((( there are only meant to be like four angsty chapters in this whole fic and that was not one of them :// BUT i’m glad I made you ~feel things~ regardless
> 
> Also, a few chapters ago I asked for ur opinions on relationships with OCs and I think a couple of people felt it a bit unfair that Richie was getting all this action and Eddie was just being a dumb sad gay, but worry not! His time will come, I promise, and then Richie will be pining like a motherfucker. I appreciate the feedback nonetheless <3

Eddie was standing in front of his mirror, looking himself in the eye. He’d just woken up and his hair was in disarray and there were dark circles forming under his tired eyes. His t-shirt (which was actually Richie’s old t-shirt with The Rolling Stones’ logo on it) was crumpled from where he’d tossed and turned in his sleep and his boxer briefs were bunched up around the juncture of his hips and thighs. He usually wore sleep shorts to bed but had been so tired last night that he passed out as soon as his clothes were off. 

He looked like shit.

And he felt worse. 

Eddie hadn’t been sleeping properly for the past couple of weeks. Partially because finals had been quickly approaching and he’d been studying more than ever to keep his grades up, and partially because there had been a few choice thoughts running around in his head since prom. It had been consuming his every waking moment, keeping him constantly on edge because of how his heart reacted every time he thought about it – which was a lot.

He’d been living on caffeine, taking Stan’s advice and drinking his coffee black, and had somehow managed to get through finals week alive, actually performed quite highly in most of his exams – even calculus wasn’t that bad.

Still, the thoughts lingered at the back of his mind the whole time. It had been eating away at him, his resolve to not let himself think about it dwindling day by day until he gave up, threw whatever notebook he’d been using on the floor, and stared at the ceiling for two hours, playing the events of prom over and over in his head until he’d started getting agitated. Eddie was a stubborn little fuck, so he hadn’t written it down to get his feelings out, hadn’t even said it out loud to himself, because admitting it would make it that much truer and then he’d have to deal with it properly.

That night when he’d allowed himself to think about it was the first of many nights that Eddie slept restlessly, rolling around in his bed until ungodly hours of the morning because he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head to relax enough to fall asleep. With such an active mind, coupled with the three to five espressos he’d been drinking every day, Eddie was surprised he didn’t crash during finals week.

Now it was June and junior year was over and Eddie was finally getting a few decent nights’ sleep after a whole month of shitty nighttime behaviour. The dream he’d just woken up from about an alternative ending to prom was what spurred him to stand in front of the mirror like he was now.

Eddie watched his lips move as he finally admitted out loud the words that had been dancing around in his head for the past few weeks. 

“I’m in love with Richie.”

Fucking shit. 

Heart beating rapidly against his chest, Eddie watched his lips quiver as he sucked in a breath and spoke again.

“I am in love with my best friend, Richie Tozier. _Fuck_.”

Richie had made his feelings abundantly clear to Eddie when he left prom – he was uncomfortable with their interaction and did not see Eddie in a romantic way at all. Eddie shouldn’t have let Richie’s antics get to him and showing Richie how affected he’d been by his words was so obviously stupid, looking back on it now. Eddie was a fucking idiot.

The week after prom, on Thursday night, Eddie had stayed up all night waiting for Richie to come to his bedroom window and obnoxiously throw rocks at the glass. He never came. To Eddie, that spoke volumes. If he hadn’t been sure about Richie’s feelings straight after prom, him not showing up to the first Thursday hang out in nearly a year reinforced the fact that they’d definitely had a _moment_ and now Richie felt uncomfortable around Eddie. Fuck, what had gone through Eddie’s head when he let Richie touch his mouth like that? He hadn’t even had that much to drink, was barely having a good time, and had been perfectly fine to chat with Stan for the rest of the night. Richie just _had_ to come over and dance with him again and make him feel things he’d been ignoring for years and then call him beautiful and touch his lips and utterly destroy Eddie’s carefully constructed walls around his heart. Honestly, fuck Richie and his tomfoolery. Maybe if Eddie just blamed Richie for this whole ordeal, it would make it easier for him to swallow the rejection.

Outside of school, Eddie had seen Richie once since prom, when he went over to study for calc with him, and Richie had been acting like nothing ever happened, which again just solidified Eddie’s conclusions about Richie’s feelings towards him. Don’t mention it, it didn’t happen, move on. Eddie understood. He’d definitely needed the study session, but the way Richie’s indifferent behaviour toyed with his heart was not something he’d anticipated when going over there, and it was _painful_. Eddie had forgotten how painful it could be to like someone. And all it had taken was seeing Richie dance with Emily, seeing the joy overwhelm his face, the bright grin whenever she spoke to him, the dazed look on his face when she kissed him unexpectedly, and Eddie’s insides had coiled up with jealousy and rage and he wanted to _slap_ her.

He figured he’d been making the whole thing up. Any time he’d felt like he and Richie had a moment, where they’d stare at each other for longer than necessary or hold hands briefly or give each other a comforting touch on the leg or sweep the other’s hair from their face, it was all bullshit that Eddie had made into something bigger in his head. Richie did not have feelings for him. He never did. Any confession of love had been strictly platonic. Any lingering touch had been unintentional or unimportant. Eddie was being dramatic as usual and had warped Richie’s friendship into something deeper when it should have been taken exactly as it was – Richie just being Richie.

The weather was getting warmer and Eddie’s eighteenth birthday was in two weeks and he had nothing planned. He wondered if the Losers were going to throw him a surprise party. If they were, that was great, one less thing for him to worry about. And if they weren’t, maybe he’d take them all out for dinner or something mature like that since he’d be the first adult in the group.

Eddie rifled through the pile of books and papers on his desk, throwing away old school stuff that he no longer needed when he stumbled upon his Christmas present from Richie. He smiled, running his fingers across the movie and road trip vouchers Richie had made for him. An idea sparked in his head, and he quickly slipped on his shoes and folded the piece of paper, sliding it into his wallet and then into his pocket. It probably wasn’t the most clever idea given recent events, but he’d been thinking about it for months and now seemed as good a time as any to do it. 

Eddie rode his bike to Richie’s house. He knew he would be home today because even while they weren’t speaking to each other every day, Richie had still found the time to drop his summer schedule into Eddie’s letterbox just like he did for winter break. On account of it being summer vacation, Richie’s manager had hired a couple of younger teenagers whom he needed to pay less than Richie, so Richie had two days completely off every week. Today was a weekday, which meant Richie’s parents would not be home, so Eddie opened the front door and walked inside without worry. He took the stairs quietly when he heard soft music and Richie’s singing filtering out from the bedroom, rapping his knuckles against the ajar door a couple of times before pushing it open.

Richie was sitting cross-legged on his bed, playing the guitar, fingers continuing to pluck softly at the strings, and Eddie recognised the melody immediately as one of the softer Metallica songs that he honestly quite liked. He sat at Richie’s desk and they looked at each other for a brief moment before Richie continued singing.

“ _I never opened myself this way. Life is ours, we live it our way. All these words I don't just say. And nothing else matters._ ”

In general, Eddie found Richie to have a slightly above average singing voice, a little raspy and an improving vocal range, but his lower register combined with the acoustic guitar was always Eddie’s favourite way to hear him perform.

“ _Trust I seek and I find in you. Every day for us, something new. Open mind for a different view. And nothing else matters._ ”

Eddie let his eyelids flutter closed and his head tilt back, nodding slightly along with the music as Richie played the rest of the song. It was soothing, calming, and Eddie could have drifted off to sleep with how sleep deprived he was and how soft and gentle Richie’s voice sounded. The song ended and after several moments, Eddie opened his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you play that thing for ages,” he commented. “Is my harmonica still in the guitar case?”

Richie nodded. “Yep, found it there the other day. It’s so fuckin’ tiny, Eds. Sometimes I forget how small you were. Then I look at you now and realise you haven’t grown an inch.”

“Shut up, dickhead, I’m nearly as tall as Big Bill.”

“We gave him that name in first grade, Eds. I don’t think it still applies.” Richie hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Unless his dick is bigger than mine, that is.”

“Ugh, remind me why I came here?”

“I dunno, Spaghetti. Why did you come here? Missin’ my handsome face, were you? Cheekbones and all that jazz.”

Eddie reached into his pocket and tossed his wallet at Richie.

“Ooh, more spare cash for dear old me?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows.

“No. Open it.”

Richie did and the road trip voucher fell out.

“I’m cashing that in,” Eddie told him. “I want you to take me somewhere over the weekend for my birthday.”

Richie’s face lit up, mouth spreading into a wide grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle fondly as he looked at Eddie with some kind of wonder. “I’ve got just the place in mind, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie smiled back. He felt his muscles unclench, his body relaxing further into the chair, all the tension and confusion he’d been holding inside himself for weeks flowed out of him within minutes of being in Richie’s presence. He should have known. It had been ridiculous of him to think that something as little as a touch would ruin their friendship. Being with Richie was always so easy, thoughtless, effortless, and any worries he had about things between them being awkward or having stilted conversations or not knowing where to look or touch all flew right out the window when Richie smiled at him like that. Eddie never wanted Richie to stop smiling at him like that.

Both of them easily took the weekend in question off work. Richie had (somehow) been a trustworthy employee for almost a year now and Linda was incredibly understanding, also insisting Eddie take his actual birthday off as well.

Bill was helping Eddie pack on Friday night. He kind of wished he hadn’t left it so late, but he’d been working all week at the salon from open until close and had been exhausted every night. Linda told him to go home at 2pm today when she found this out from Bev who thought ratting him out to her aunt was a good idea. 

Bill was staring at the suitcase Eddie had laid out on the bed when he arrived.

“Do you really n-need this? You’re only go-going for the weekend.”

“Yes, Bill, I do. I need to be prepared for all kinds of weather because I don’t know where Richie is taking me. So, I’ll be wearing shorts and a t-shirt when we leave, but I need to take a long-sleeved top, a sweater, a coat, jeans, thick socks, spare underwear in case he decides to throw me in a pool or something, and swim trunks in case I’m expecting to be thrown in a pool.”

Bill was gawking at him.

“Then I’ll need a towel, toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic case, my moisturiser, another towel in case my hair gets wet—”

“Eddie. You’re not going to nee-need a coat or thick socks. I d-doubt you’ll go out of the state, but even if you do the weather will be the ssssame as in Maine.”

Eddie huffed. Bill was probably right. He replaced the suitcase with a large backpack, which Bill gave two thumbs up. The two of them picked clothes out of Eddie’s closet, then Eddie folded them neatly while Bill figured out the most efficient way to pack the bag. Bill also managed to reduce Eddie’s toiletries to just a couple of things, insisting that he wouldn’t need separate towels for his body and hair.

“My mom’s at bingo tonight so we can order in or make some dinner if you wanna stay.”

“Sure, Eddie. Bev taught me how to m-m-make a pretty good Chinese st-stir fry the other day.”

They had to drive to the shops to get Hokkien noodles and oyster sauce because Bill insisted it wouldn’t taste the same without them. The radio was on low as they drove.

“H-How come Richie is taking you on a roa-road trip for your birthday?” Bill asked. “We could have all done ssssomething together.”

“We will, Big Bill,” Eddie replied, ignoring his question. “On my actual birthday. We can have a board game night at my house or something. Or maybe someone else’s house. I don’t think my mom would approve of a certain few of our friends being in her living room all night.”

“Probably not,” Bill agreed. “We can do it at mine.” He paused. “So, wh-why the road trip?”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He’d wanted to avoid talking about Richie in depth in any regard for as long as possible while he was still coming to terms with his feelings, especially not to Bill who could read him like a book. “Just… following through on an old promise.”

Eddie put on a Van Halen record while they cooked. He poked at Bill’s ribs as he stood in front of the stove until Bill spun around and wiped his soy sauce drenched finger down Eddie’s cheek. Eddie squealed and smacked his arm.

“Don’t be fucking gross!”

“Don’t inter-r-ru-rupt me while I’m in the zone!”

“You’re _cooking,_ not writing, so it’s free game.”

“No, ffffuck you, Eddie. Set the table or something.”

Bill was right – Bev’s recipe was really good. Eddie didn’t think he’d ever had such a delicious homecooked meal in his life. He’d have to get Bev to write it down for him one day, maybe make it for Richie when they were in New York. It was meant to serve four, so Eddie packed the rest into containers and put them in the fridge.

“Thanks for helping me out today,” he said through a bite. “This is fucking delicious.”

“T-T-Told you,” Bill replied with a smile. “Oh, did I tell you my English teacher liked my sh-short story so much that sh-she submitted it to the paper for that award thing they’re d-do-doing this year?”

“Oh my god, Bill! That’s amazing!” Bill blushed under the praise. “Congratulations, I’m so proud of you. I know how hard you worked on that assignment.”

“They’ll publish the top three submiss-sh-sions at the end of the month and the winner gets ma-mailed a certificate, I th-th-think.”

“That’d look pretty neat up on your wall next to your football trophies,” Eddie commented.

“It’d look so good. And on col-college applications, too. I think I wanna do a creative writing c-c-course.”

“I can definitely see that. You all hunched over a notebook or maybe even a computer at three o’clock in the fuckin’ morning, trying to get the perfect story out before your deadline.”

Bill laughed. “Are you kidding? That’s lllliterally me now.” He paused for a moment, watching Eddie like he was considering something. “What do yo-you want to d-do in college?”

He looked a little unsure of himself. It made sense that college was a bit of a touchy subject for them, being nearly in their final year of high school, and Eddie wondered if Bill felt bad that they didn’t hang out more often. He knew he certainly did.

“I’m not too sure,” he replied honestly. “Get as far away from this fucking town as I can, that’s for sure. I don’t even know what I’d study. I like the idea of psychology, helping people get through their shit. Fuck knows I could have used one. Maybe even work with kids.”

“My aunt is a psychologist. Sh-She had a patient k-k-kill themselves once.” Bill winced. “Sorry, not he-helpful, I know.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re such an asshole, Bill.”

“That is a fair ass-s-ssessment.”

“I’ve also thought about doing business or something more practical,” Eddie continued. “Or maybe go all out and do something wacky like become a mechanic or a fuckin’ arts student.”

“You can’t draw,” Bill snorted.

“I can damn well try!”

Bill’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Jessica wants to do art. Sh-She does pai-pai-paintings. They’re pretty incredible.” His eyes dropped and a small, almost bashful smile spread across his face. He looked happy.

“You guys have been together for a long time.”

“Ye-Yeah, eight months. With a sh-sh-short break.”

The way Bill was smiling made Eddie’s chest swell with affection in an entirely different way than Richie’s smile did.

“What about you, Eddie?” Bill kept talking. “You haven’t d-dated anyone… at all?”

Eddie swallowed. “Uh, no, I haven’t.”

“Have you ki-ki-kissed anyone?”

“Jeez, Billy, why the sudden interest in my love life?” Eddie was teasing, obviously, but he was also kind of serious. He had _just_ come to the realisation that he was head over fucking heels for Richie; he did not need to be drilled about his lack of romantic interests by someone he trusted so dearly and would quite possibly blab to about everything that had been going on in his head if prompted.

Bill chuckled. “Hey, I was j-ju-just wondering. Stan’s the ssssame. You guys are weird. Girls are gr-great.”

He didn’t seem to be mocking Eddie or trying to imply that him having no interest in girls was actually bad or wrong or anything. Maybe Bill, and hopefully the rest of their friends, had absolutely no idea about Eddie being very, very not into girls at all. That was good, he told himself. If Bill hadn’t figured it out, and Bill had known him since they were four years old, then Eddie must have been much better at covering it up than he thought and his secret must be safe.

“Yeah, they are pretty great. I’m just not really thinking about that stuff right now.”

“That’s cool. I’m just m-m-messing with you, Eds.”

Eddie’s face turned red and his lips screwed up. “Don’t you fucking start with that nickname, William. I will sneak into your house and destroy your Millennium Falcon model.”

Bill barely stifled a laugh and held up his hands in defence.

They finished eating and Bill went home with one of the packed containers of leftover stir fry, leaving Eddie to double check his bag for tomorrow. He threw in a mixtape Richie once made for him just in case the idiot forgot to bring some, as well as the movie voucher should they stumble upon a theatre or maybe a drive-in, wherever they were going. Eddie was grinning when he hopped into bed, willing himself asleep so the next day would come quicker.

Richie said he would be at Eddie’s house at 8am the next morning and Eddie was incredibly surprised to see that he was actually on time. He hauled his bag into the back of the car and scrambled into the passenger seat, reaching across to squeeze Richie’s knee with an excited grin.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Eddie all but squealed. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

Richie tisked and shook his head. “No can do, Eds. It’s a surprise, remember? Just know that we’ll be there by lunchtime but I have snacks in the back seat that I will not hesitate to shut you up with if you get snappy at any point.”

“Me? Snappy?” Eddie scoffed. “You’re dreaming, Rich.”

“You’re absolutely right. Thinking about you yelling at me really gets my dick hard.”

Eddie gagged (blushed) and smacked Richie’s forearm.

There was a Bonnie Tyler song playing and Eddie wondered if the mixtape was one of the _Spaghetti_ ones. He hadn’t paid much attention to most of the actual song titles when he’d looked at the tapes at Richie’s house, but he knew Richie definitely did not listen to Bonnie Tyler by choice, always moaned and groaned whenever Eddie put on one of her songs, so there was no way this was one of his personal playlists. Eddie bopped along, tapping his foot to the beat and singing softly under his breath.

“C’mon, Eds, lemme hear them pipes!”

“It’s starting to sound like you really do want me to yell at you, Tozier.”

“Mmm, you know I do. It’s what makes you so irresistibly cute. You’re like an angry little kitten. Reow!”

“If you compare me to a baby animal one more time, I swear, I will fucking end your life.”

The first hour of the drive was spent singing loudly with the windows rolled down and Eddie dancing in his seat a little. He couldn’t help it – Richie fucking put The Weather Girls on and Eddie was an absolute sucker for good tunes like that. The second hour was when Richie started to get tired, having gone through his can of Red Bull rather quickly, and they made a pit stop at a gas station to get more caffeine and take a piss.

During hour number three, Richie started getting restless. It was a product of him sitting down, doing the same task for so long and the energy drinks that had him bouncing his knee aggressively and not in time with the music at all. They must have been nearly at the Maine border now. Eddie was trying his best not to look at the signs after they passed _Now Leaving Derry_ and they hooted and cheered and flipped off their hometown, but he knew they hadn’t diverged from the Interstate 95 so they had to be close to New Hampshire. He was brimming with curiosity about their final destination now.

Eddie reached across the middle console to place a comforting hand on Richie’s agitated knee, rubbing circles with his thumb until it stopped bouncing. He snuck a glance and saw Richie’s hands gripping the steering wheel, white knuckles straining against the thin skin of his fingers. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, but if he were to guess, he would say they were very close to their destination and Richie was starting to feel nervous, probably hoping Eddie would like his surprise. So he kept rubbing at his knee to soothe him.

Nearly another half hour had passed when Richie finally turned to Eddie with a bright grin across his face.

“We’re nearly here. Strap yourself in, Spaghetti, and get ready for the best weekend of your fuckin’ life.”

Eddie glanced up just in time to see them taking the exit onto Highway 1 and soon enough they were passing a welcome sign and crossing a bridge. He loved being right.

“What’s in New Hampshire?” he asked.

“Fuck you, no peeking! It’s a surprise, Eds!”

“Richie,” he drawled with an eye roll. “You know I know my way around a map, right? I’ve had an idea of where we’ve been headed for nearly two hours. Not all of us are as directionally challenged as you.”

Richie huffed and turned down a side street, pulling into the parking lot of an ordinary looking cafe. Looking at the flashing sign with a broken apostrophe told them it was called Kate’s. Eddie wondered what was so special about Kate’s food that Richie had to bring them all the way here to try it. He asked Richie, who chuckled in response.

“Just you wait, Eddie my love. This place apparently has the _best_ milkshakes in, like, the whole fucking country.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “There is no way anyone would even know that.”

Richie held the door open for him with a dramatic bow as a bubbly waitress came over to them with an overly bright smile on her face. She took them to a booth by the window and gave them separate food and drink menus. Apparently they made a lot of different milkshakes.

There were at least 20 photo frames scattered on the walls around them, images from cities around the world, abstract artwork and random doodles and so much colour everywhere. Directly above their table was a cluster of lightbulbs with semi-circles drawn on the ceiling around it to look like a flower, the pink and yellow light streaming down on Richie’s face where he slid into the seat in front of Eddie with a huff of breath and a bit of a groan.

“Is it hard getting your lanky ass all the way down to sit level with the rest of the world, huh?” Eddie teased.

“Yeah, the weather sure is different down here.”

“Not my fault you’re part-giraffe or something.”

Richie snorted and picked up the drinks menu, holding it in front of his face so Eddie could just see tufts of black hair peeking over the top.

“I can see the other menu hasn’t moved,” Richie said after a moment and Eddie could _hear_ the fucking smirk on his face. “I know I’m pretty but you’ve gotta stop staring, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie was glad Richie couldn’t see him blush.

They ended up sharing a burger with salad for lunch because Richie insisted Eddie pick whatever he wanted, said sharing meals would be good for them to practice in case New York became too expensive or they were ever having a hard time paying bills in the future. Eddie supposed he was right, but he sure was hungry. Richie promised to get them ice cream afterwards as well, and Eddie thought that kind of counteracted the whole reason for sharing thing.

Eddie decided on a vanilla milkshake (surprise surprise) while Richie opted for some chocolate-coffee-caramel abomination with whipped cream and a flake. They took their first sips on Richie’s count of three, slurping loudly while maintaining eye contact to see the other’s reaction.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Eddie marvelled. He glanced down at his drink like it would start reciting its ingredients for him to recreate it later. When he looked back up at Richie, he almost spat out his drink upon seeing the amount of whipped cream all over his friend’s upper lip, nose and glasses. “If you get diabetes before you’re thirty, I’m not fucking taking care of you. I’m calling it right now.”

“It’s just that there’s so much more of me to be fed, that’s all. Gotta provide sustenance to fuel this ‘lanky ass body’ you can’t keep your eyes off of. One of the downsides of being normal sized, I guess. It’s something you’d never understand, Eds.”

“So you’ll be eating half the salad then, too?” Eddie pointedly ignored the jab at his ridiculous habit of staring at Richie (and getting caught).

Richie grimaced, his lips doing that pouty thing Eddie found adorable and also hated so much. “Aw, fuck no. You can have your stupid leaves all to yourself.”

“One day, I swear to god, one day I will find a vegetable that you like. It’s gonna be my new life mission.”

“I like olives.”

“Something other than olives. Something you can put in a salad.”

“Who says you can’t put olives in a salad?” Richie stared at Eddie like he’d just grown another head. “You can make a salad out of anything! If you made a cake, say chocolate cake, and then cut it up into small pieces and put it in a bowl, and then threw in some tiny ass cupcakes and maybe pieces of sponge cake or something, it’d be a cake salad! And then you could smother it in frosting and cream and caramel sauce and that’d be the dressing. It’d be kind of like my milkshake, except without coffee. I don’t know why they didn’t just call it a caramel mocha milkshake instead of using the words ‘chocolate’ and ‘coffee’ separately, like people don’t know what a mocha is.”

Eddie hardly noticed the smile creeping onto his face as Richie talked. He was always so animated and passionate about the dumbest things that had no matter or consequence, jumping from topic to topic at random, cutting himself off constantly the very second a new thought popped into his head. Richie’s arms flew around his head, gesturing wildly as he continued speaking, but Eddie’s eyes remained fixed on his face.

“I’ve literally been drinking mochas for a hundred years, or at least five years. I know _you’re_ fuckin’ weird and drink black coffee but I like my caffeinated beverages _sweet_ , just like I like my Mrs K. Did you tell her we’d be gone all weekend? She’d be so jealous of you, spendin’ all this alone time with me. Imagine being cockblocked by your own son because you’re both after the same dude!”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Eddie said, almost breathless, and he wished he didn’t sound as taken by this dumb boy’s dramatic flare as he was. Richie was too caught up in his stupid joke to notice, thank goodness. Eddie might have died from embarrassment if he’d commented on it, his body simply ceasing to exist and evaporating out of pure humiliation.

After their meal, piled back into the car, they crossed the second bridge and were finally in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. They pulled into the parking lot of a central park overflowing with greenery and colourful flowers. It was pretty. Couples and families and groups of children were milling around and laughing brightly, enjoying the fine weather and each others’ company.

“I thought we could take a walk around the lake here, work up an appetite again, and then go get ice cream,” Richie explained.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can stomach any more ice cream right now,” Eddie admitted. “That milkshake was so rich and sweet. I can’t even fucking imagine yours.”

They chatted (read: bickered) as they made their way through the entrance of the park and towards the lake. The water was calm and clear, a few ducks hanging around on one side where a bunch of young children were kicking a football around. While they walked, Richie took it upon himself to fill the space with continuous prattling about everything that popped into his head. One of his hands was moving around, gesturing dramatically, while the other swung by his side and occasionally brushed against Eddie’s. Richie went on and on about sport, sparked by the kids playing football, then somehow got onto the topic of musical theatre, which diverged into thinking about college and, for the first time since Eddie told him about New York, another possible future residence for the two of them was brought up.

California.

Of course, it was a place Eddie had considered way back when he first started researching – it seemed like the most obvious place for Richie to want to go, so he was kind of surprised that he was only bringing it up now, nearly a year into their plans.

“I’d have to get my license if we went to LA,” Eddie realised. “Otherwise it’d take for-fucking-ever to drive there because of how often you need to take breaks.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I can’t stay focused on shit.”

“We should get you, like, a stress ball so your hands have something to play with and your brain can fuckin’ pay attention to the task at hand.”

“Not a bad idea, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Are you still gonna be calling me dumbass nicknames when we’re twenty? Twenty-five? If I haven’t thrown you to the curb by then, that is.”

“You say this, Eds, but I can see your face. I can see how hard you try not to laugh at everything I say. I’ve been learning the Spaghetti language over the years and I know ‘shut the fuck up Richie’ actually means ‘wow I love your jokes so much, you’re so funny Richie, never stop being you’.”

“... Shut the fuck up, Richie.”

After they rounded the lake, Eddie decided his feet hurt and it was time to get ice cream. It had nothing to do with the fact that their fingers had been touching occasionally while they walked and he was very tempted to hook his pinkie finger around Richie’s and squeeze, just to see how he’d react. It was difficult to think that not even two weeks ago, Eddie had been completely certain that Richie had felt uncomfortable regarding their _moment_ , and now he was thinking about trying to hold his fucking hand.

Richie drove them to New Castle Island and parked by the beach, zooming around to the passenger side to open Eddie’s door for him. He took his hands and yanked him out of the car, then immediately took off down the path towards the beach.

“There’s an ice cream truck just down this way. Come on, Eds! We’re wasting daylight!”

Eddie grinned and raced after him. He realised as they rushed down near the water that this beach had very little sand, was mostly covered in tightly packed dirt and large rocks, and Eddie felt his chest swell with affection for Richie choosing this beach, for knowing him so well. Eddie fucking hated getting sand in his shoes. It was one of the first times they’d played together in first grade, where Eddie had blatantly refused to join Richie, Bill and Stan in the sandbox, rattling off at least six different types of bacteria until Richie had grabbed a handful of sand and flung it at Eddie. He’d screamed and yelled at Richie, told him he would never be his friend again. Eddie chuckled at the memory, remembering how Richie had snuck an extra juice box into his backpack the next day because Eddie always liked having a sip of his (the first sip, before Richie’s dirty mouth touched the straw, of course), and Eddie had forgiven him immediately.

“Spaghetti! Keep up!” Richie called, waving his arms above his head to beckon Eddie over to the ice cream truck he’d found. Eddie broke into a proper run and was in front of Richie within seconds.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about your stupid ass giving me the first sip of your juice boxes in elementary school.”

“Ah yes, the good ol’ days, before you developed a massive crush on me and haven’t been able to leave my side since.”

Eddie’s face burned hot and red and he thumped Richie on the arm, probably a little too hard. “I do not have a fucking crush on you! You—You’re disgusting and I-I’m not—”

“Relax, Spagheds, I’m just teasing you.” Richie’s voice was quieter than Eddie was expecting and it gave him pause for a brief moment.

They looked at each other for a few seconds and it was probably Eddie just projecting his own stupid thoughts onto the situation, but it almost felt like they were evaluating each other, seeing how the other was reacting to the idea of having Eddie having a crush on Richie. Richie was constantly harping on about Eddie being cute and his ass looking good, but it was all playful and never serious… right? That was why he’d left prom early, because it got serious and a bit gay and Richie didn’t like it. Richie wasn’t… No, for fuck’s sake, he’d been talking about girls for as long as Eddie could remember and, if his reactions to Emily kissing him were any indication, it wasn’t just him trying to hide himself like Eddie sometimes considered doing. No, Richie liked girls.

But then Richie blurted out, “You know, the very first moment I laid eyes on you in first grade, in your yellow polo and little denim shorts, I thought you were the cutest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.” His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and Eddie’s body swayed forward unwillingly, eyes softening as Richie schooled his expression.

This was throwing Eddie for a loop. Richie was all over the place. Slow dancing and singing in his ear at his party, running away from their moment at prom, now calling him cute and talking to him in a gentle voice like he was something special? Eddie wished he could just ask him in a way that didn’t destroy their friendship. He had so many fucking questions.

Richie was biting his bottom lip. Were they having another _moment_ right now? Is that what this was? Eddie wasn’t sure if his heart could take any more _moments_ while knowing that Richie was just being his stupid, unthinking self and didn’t mean a single word of it. Eddie had to protect himself before he let Richie in too deep and allowed him to stomp all over his heart and leave him lying there, wishing and longing for something he could never have with his best friend.

Eddie took a step back and had to remind himself: just because Richie was single didn’t mean he suddenly stopped being straight. He was just making another joke at Eddie’s expense. Eddie should have been used to it by now, but his heart ached just like it had all those years ago when he first realised he liked Richie. Only now he wasn’t fourteen and vomiting at the mere thought of being gay. Now he was fully aware of his deeply rooted affection for this idiot with magnifying glasses and shocking fashion sense and crude humour, and fuck, that made it hurt so much more.

He turned to the person in the ice cream truck without another word to Richie and ordered both of their ice creams, letting Richie jump in and pay for them, and then took them over to a nearby rock with a flat top for them to sit. Richie followed silently and sat next to him, accepting the ice cream with a nod as thanks.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but still a heavy one, the air thick with all the things they weren’t saying to each other, wondering what the other was thinking, yet somehow knowing they were both analysing their conversation and possibly their entire relationship. It was strange, Eddie thought, that he was so sure Richie was as straight as an arrow and felt uneasy about the _moment_ at prom, but Eddie could still believe him when Richie said he was cute or beautiful, when they practically cuddled at sleepovers and bought each other dumb little gifts and always came to each other when they needed comfort. Was it possible that Eddie was somehow an exception to Richie’s straightness? Was that even a thing? Could Richie somehow love him in a way that was more than platonic, but not quite romantic? Is that just what being best friends was supposed to be like for straight people? Eddie had no fucking idea. He was completely torn between thinking it must mean something different, something special, and just Richie’s normal playful behaviour.

Beverly might know. She was always so in touch with her own and other people’s emotions, and Eddie was sure that most, if not all of the Losers went to her for guidance sometimes. He’d have to chat with her soon, have to weave this into their conversation in some subtle way that didn’t give him away, because this game he and Richie were playing – had been playing for years, if he really thought about it – was starting to wear him thin with how much damn _thinking_ he’d been doing.

Eddie’s brain was starting to hurt again. He licked at his ice cream and allowed his eyes to dart momentarily across to Richie, who was doing the same. They both looked out at the sea, watching a few kids splashing around, some teenagers throwing a beach ball to each other, some adults resting on the rocks like he and Richie were.

Eddie couldn’t take it. Yes, he’d just decided to stop thinking about the Richie-maybe-liking-him thing, but he was a stubborn little shit and hated not knowing things. He didn’t want to ask outright, though, because that thought was fucking terrifying and he couldn’t ruin his relationship with Richie because of his stupid crush. He had to be clever about this.

Richie had his ice cream cone in one hand, so Eddie switched his own across and dropped his other hand to the rock in the space between them, his pinky finger touching Richie’s thigh. He waited a few moments, holding his breath without even realising it.

He waited. Nothing happened.

Fucking fuck. 

This was a fucking stupid idea.

He should’ve moved his hand back already, but now that he was touching Richie, surely the other boy would notice if he suddenly moved, and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to his own stupid experiment.

But then Richie’s hand came down on top of his, warm, calloused fingers slotting between his own, not holding, just resting there.

Eddie’s entire body relaxed, the tense, anxious energy draining out of him in an instant. It didn’t have to mean anything. It could have been a completely innocent action, just like all the other times they’d held hands or rubbed each other’s knees or played with each other’s hair… but just like their slow dancing at Richie’s birthday party, Eddie knew – he _knew_ – that it had to. He refused to believe that it didn’t mean anything to Richie, that it didn’t make his heart race or his palms sweat (although that would be gross because his palm was on top of Eddie’s hand right now) as it did to Eddie. He’d _felt_ Richie’s heart when they danced. It didn’t matter that they were drunk. Richie had felt the moment, too, and that time, unlike prom, he hadn’t run away.

Eddie then realised that, while he was lost in his own head, Richie had started talking. It wasn’t anything noteworthy, though, he was just pointing at the seagulls on the shore and babbling on about how he should start a band called The Pelicans or something and get Stan to play bass guitar. Eddie wasn’t really listening, his attention too focused on their touching hands, but he was definitely glad things were back to normal again and no awkward conversations were occurring like he constantly feared. He turned his head to watch Richie talk, lips curving into a half smile.

“I could alternate between lead guitar and singing, ‘cause none of our dickhead friends can sing, and Ben could play the drums and Bev could do backing vocals and we’d be the most kickass band Maine has ever seen! Mike and Bill would be our bodyguards when we go on tour and _you_ , Eddie my love, would be our faithful groupie slash cheerleader. I’d make sure you always got the best seats in the house! And of course, when we get real famous, I’d need you right there by my side.”

“Why would you need that?”

Richie finally turned to look at him, frowning like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why? ‘Cause someone’s gotta keep up with the Trashmouth’s trash-mouthing. Someone’s gotta stop me from doing stupid shit like trying cocaine or marrying a stranger in Vegas or knocking someone up.” Richie shrugged. “You’re my Eddie Spaghetti. ‘Course I need you around.”

 _This,_ Eddie thought, _is what a date must feel like._ He wondered once again, looking into his friend’s smiling eyes, if Richie was thinking the same thing.

The next thing Richie wanted to do in Portsmouth was take Eddie shopping. They wandered aimlessly up and down Congress and Market Street, pointing and laughing at the mannequins’ outfits, Eddie comparing some of their mismatched clothes to Richie’s until Richie ducked into a store and bought Eddie a fucking baby blue polo with a stupid flamingo on the breast pocket, said it matched the Christmas present Eddie got him and it’d be cute if they matched. Eddie hated how easily he blushed at Richie’s antics. They kept walking, poking their heads into a few bakeries and cafes (as if they could eat any more food) and making up stories for random people that passed them in the street.

“See those two girls over there?” Eddie whispered, vaguely gesturing across the road to a girl around their age holding hands with a toddler. “Teenage mom or big sister?”

“Oh, definitely teenage mom. Look at that fucking skirt. That’s the kind of shit Tammy liked to wear and I can one hundred per cent see her getting knocked up like that.”

“Richie! That’s so not funny. Girls can wear short and tight skirts without necessarily being idiots who have unsafe sex.”

“Dude, relax, I’ve said so much worse about her boyfriend. James Parker is the biggest slut in the whole fucking school.”

“Yeah, he does get around.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the guy and we have fantastic on-stage chemistry, but he never shuts up about all his ‘conquests’. I hate thinking about sex like that.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie agreed. Like he would know. Like _Richie_ would even know. “Okay, that group over there. Who’s Frankenfurter, Rocky, Riff Raff, Magenta and Columbia?”

“Okay, okay. Dude in the skinny jeans has the best ass so he’s gotta be Rocky.”

Eddie nodded, totally not salivating over said guy’s ass. “Agreed.”

“And the redhead obviously has to be Columbia,” Richie continued. “She’s got dancer’s legs, sort of, so that works. So the other chick’s Magenta.”

“And I bet Brad Pitt over there would look fucking fantastic with makeup and fishnets on, so that leaves the tanned skin guy as Riff Raff.”

“My, my, Eddie Spaghetti, is this your way of telling me you’re into sexy stockings, having someone dress up all pretty for you? It’s always the small ones who are the most dominating and kinky, ain’t it?”

Eddie could’ve sworn his entire body flushed bright red. “What the actual fuck, Richie?!”

“Ooh, how about them? Those people, what language is that? Spanish? What do you think they’re saying?”

Eddie spluttered, still recovering from Richie’s utterly ridiculous sexual comment that totally did not get his heart racing. “They’re judging you, for sure. She’s not pointing at the store behind us, she’s pointing at you and asking her husband ‘did that guy’s carer let him dress himself this morning?’ and he’s definitely agreeing with her. Look at that! A fucking nod. I’m so right. Your fucking shirt, Rich, it’s atrocious.”

“Oh, ha ha. So funny you are, Eds. You know you got me this fucking shirt two years a— Oh my god, look!”

Eddie stopped walking and turned to see what Richie was gushing over. He was pointing to a music store across the road, eyes and grin as wide and bright as ever, and Eddie couldn’t deny him this.

“Well, come on then, let’s go have a look.”

“Eds, no, it’s your birthday, not mine. I’m sure I can come back another time or something.”

Eddie huffed. “No, I want to go inside, how about that?”

“You do not, you’re just being a little shit.”

“We’re fucking going, Richard.”

“Yep, okay, we’re going.”

Eddie honestly couldn’t have cared less about seeing the inside of the store, but watching Richie’s entire _body_ light up when they walked in and looked around at the tens, maybe hundreds of guitars lining the walls, he knew it was completely worth it. Richie gasped excitedly and rushed over to a mahogany guitar that Eddie recognised to be a Gibson Les Paul – he only knew that’s what it was because Richie used to talk about them all the time when he first started playing music.

“Holy motherfucker…” Richie ran his hands down the neck and body of the guitar, eyes marvelling at the fact that he could see and touch it in person. “Eddie, oh my god, this is amazing.”

Eddie left Richie to admire the instrument and went over to one of the employees to ask if they could try out the guitar. The guy brought over an amp and some cables to Richie, whose eyes widened and grin brightened as they took the equipment to a separate room and set it up.

Richie strummed a major chord once the guitar was set up and _groaned_. He looked at Eddie and breathed, “Thank you for bringing me here,” so quickly that his words all mushed together. Eddie smiled back and watched his long fingers mess around on the strings, plucking and moving like he was trying to find a particular note. “Aha!”

Richie leaned down to fiddle with the various knobs on the amp and pedal that he’d chosen, strumming until the clean sound from the guitar became slightly fuzzy. Eddie squinted, almost recognising the sound, and then Richie strummed a few chords and started playing the opening bars to the song he’d been figuring out. 

“Oh!” Eddie squirmed on the spot, finally recognising the chord progression. He tapped his foot to create a beat and swayed with the music until the words kicked in. “ _Dark in the city, night is a wire. Steam in the subway, earth is afire._ ” Richie joined in for the do dos, and because his musical talents were far superior to Eddie’s mediocre singing, he easily slipped into the higher notes to harmonise with Eddie.

Apparently that was as much of the song that Richie could play, but Eddie was grinning happily and Richie looked the same, beaming at him for a few moments longer before glancing down at the guitar, face falling slightly.

“I fucking wish I had more money,” Richie said.

Eddie wished so, too. It had been such a long time since he’d seen his friend playing his guitar at all, let alone look so happy about it. His acoustic guitar was good, but there was something so innately _Richie_ about the loud, dirty sound of an electric guitar. It was such a shame that he’d have to get the amplifier, pedal and cables to even be able to play it because there was no chance they could justify spending hundreds of dollars on a hobby when they would have rent and bills looming over their heads in a year’s time.

While Richie and one of the employees packed away the equipment, Eddie snuck over to the front counter and asked the worker there to write down all the equipment Richie had just been using, gawked at the total price, and stuffed the paper deep into his wallet.

Still craving his and Bill’s fucking amazing stir fry from last night, Eddie instantly decided on Chinese takeaway when Richie later asked him what he wanted to do for dinner. Richie bought them some classic sweet and sour pork and chow mein to share, and they settled on a bench at the park they’d strolled through earlier in the day. The sun started to go down, so the bench they chose allowed them to watch the sunset while they ate, passing the containers back and forth. Eddie tried to teach Richie how to use chopsticks because he’d never really been shown, but that ended up being a mistake when Richie knocked the container of noodles off his lap and a bunch fell onto the grass beneath their feet and the idiot cracked up laughing when Eddie’s stomach immediately started growling.

Once their bellies were satisfactorily full, they fell into easy conversation again. Eddie told Richie about his new recipe discovery and Richie said he could cook pasta and scrambled eggs and that was about it. They talked about what the gang was going to do on Tuesday for Eddie’s party, Richie said he’d bring his Game Boy and both of them made mental notes to ask Ben to bring some board games as well. Eddie’s house was always full to the brim with food, so he planned to ask Beverly and Bill to help him make snacks for everyone the day before and Richie said he and Mike had been discussing cocktail ideas for a while and it seemed like the perfect time to test them out.

Eddie’s calf started itching, and that meant the mosquitoes had come out to play. He smacked his leg in case the bastard was still there and Richie jolted next to him.

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Fuckin’ insects, that’s what. We have to get back to the car before we’re eaten alive. Thank fuck we live in the north, otherwise, we could get infected. Do you have any idea how disgusting mosquitoes are?”

“Nope, but I bet you’re about to tell me.”

Eddie had _plenty_ to say on the subject while they walked back to the car, hands brushing in a way that made his heart skip a beat and his stomach flip, almost uncomfortably given how much food they’d consumed today. When they were almost back at the car, Richie looked in his wallet and frowned, cursing under his breath.

“Ah, fuck. Um, Eddie…?”

“What is it?” Richie calling him by his proper name was never a good sign. “What have you done now?”

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting to buy you an extra birthday present _and_ such a shit ton of food, so we may not have enough money for the motel… So, we might have to sleep in the car.”

Eddie groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “How could you not have brought extra? Why didn’t you prepare for the worst? _Shit_ , Richie. Ugh, why are you like this?”

“We haven’t run out completely. There’s still enough for the little activity I wanna do tomorrow, just not enough for the room, too. I’m sorry, Eds.”

Eddie shook his head but his frown softened slightly. Damn Richie and his fucking ability to weave his way into Eddie’s heart and make himself so at home that he’d forgive him for just about any bullshit he pulled.

“You can have the pillow and blanket, of course,” Richie continued, pulling a duffle bag from the back seat to show Eddie. “You can take the whole back, I’ll sleep in the driver’s seat. It’s fine, I want you to be comfortable.”

And there he went again, making Eddie feel all warm and mushy inside. Fuck Richie, honestly.

“You know I hate it when you baby me like that,” Eddie mumbled, but hopped in the back anyway.

It was still pretty uncomfortable, even with a pillow under his head and a blanket wrapped around his body like a cocoon. Richie’s legs were probably cramped and squished in the front and that was surely worse, but Eddie would have stayed up all night if he’d let the taller boy take the back seat and squashed himself into the front instead.

Eddie didn’t sleep all that well and if Richie’s drooping eyes early the next morning as they swung past a petrol station to get themselves their morning caffeine were anything to go by, the front seat wasn’t kind to him either. The activity Richie had planned for today was a short drive away, barely enough time for Eddie to finish his long black and Richie his Red Bull.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

They had pulled up to a rollerskating rink. Eddie started shaking his head vehemently.

“There is no way I’m going in there.”

“Aw, come on, Eds! What happened to livin’ a little? You keep saying you wanna do fun stuff but you’re honestly just a stick in the mud.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m plenty fun. Let’s go.”

Eddie snatched Richie’s wallet from his hand and marched ahead to pay for their entry and get their rollerblades sorted. Richie said he’d been rollerblading a couple of times before with his cousins who live in Boston, so he’d be able to teach Eddie – if he wanted help. Eddie liked that Richie understood how he sometimes preferred working things out for himself.

Rollerblading was not one of those things, apparently.

“Richie! Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking fall!” Eddie’s arms flailed around erratically, legs trembling as he skidded across the floor. “Shit, shit, _fuck!_ ”

Richie was skating right behind him, promising to catch him if he fell – Richie might have smirked and winked and all his usual bullshit while saying it but Eddie knew he meant it wholeheartedly. Eddie’s arms shot out sideways to steady himself and Richie was right there, just like he said he’d be, large hands finding purchase on Eddie’s waist as he pulled them both to a stop.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie breathed once he’d gained his balance, holding onto the barrier, “I just nearly died.”

“You’re such a freakin’ drama queen.”

“Whose bright idea was it to do this, again? Oh, right. _Yours_ , dipshit. You knew what you were signing up for when you brought me here.”

“You just gotta keep at it, Eds. Practice makes perfect or some shit. Here—”

He took one of Eddie’s hands and led him away from the barrier. Richie wasn’t exactly the best rollerblader himself, but anyone who could remain upright for more than six seconds was a darn sight better than Eddie, so he let himself be pulled back onto the floor, clutching Richie’s hand like his life depended on it.

It took less than an hour for Eddie to start getting the hang of it. He was an athlete, after all, so he just had to think about putting one foot in front of the other, swinging his arms like he was running, and soon enough he could easily keep up with Richie’s slow pace. The session they paid for was three hours, and Eddie made it his mission to out-skate Richie in that time. Their hands were still connected – to keep each other balanced, obviously – but soon enough, Eddie was tugging Richie’s arm as the apparently experienced one started to lag behind.

“Your gangly limbs kind of make you look like a baby giraffe,” Eddie laughed, turning his head to grin at his slow friend.

Richie flipped him off with his free hand. “Careful, Kaspbrak, or I’ll take you down with me.”

“Oh no, you won’t! Keep up, dipshit!”

Eddie dropped Richie’s hand and started to speed up, taking off and leaving Richie to roll slowly around the rink by himself, careful not to hit other kids. As the second hour of their session progressed, Eddie tried to skate in a circle around Richie while he stumbled over his own feet, completely living up to his baby giraffe nickname. Eddie was the one who had to stabilise Richie this time, which earned a laugh from both of them.

“Look at you, Eds! You’re killin’ it!”

Eddie dragged Richie off the rink to get slushies.

“What, no ice cream today?” Richie asked.

Eddie groaned. “Ugh, I swear to god, if I have to see another ice cream cone, I’m gonna puke. We had _so much_ yesterday.” He opened his wallet and let out another groan. “Why did we not bring more money?”

“Well, looks like we’ll have to share a slushie.”

They got two straws and sat down with their half-cherry-half-blue-raspberry abomination, sipping slowly and people watching, eyes following kids and teenagers zoom around the rink. Eddie got up when their sugary drink was about half finished and went back onto the floor to skate without Richie trying to distract him or trip him up. There was a similar exhilarating feeling that reminded Eddie of running. The air whipping past his face as he moved, thigh muscles aching in a pleasant way that only happened after a good work out. He practically flew around the rink, skating lap after lap until Richie eventually rejoined him, having left the slushie with their bags.

Their session was nearing its end and Eddie was proud to find his skills far surpassing Richie’s flailing limbs. After showing off in circles around him, Eddie grabbed his hands and tried to skate backwards, pulling Richie with him. He took a few steps, glided smoothly, and then Richie’s foot slipped and knocked into Eddie’s rollerblade, sending them both flying onto the floor in a fit of laughter.

“That was amazing, Rich, thank you,” Eddie said once they had returned their blades, grabbed their belongings and were heading back to the car.

Richie grinned around his straw as he slurped on the last of their melted slushie. “Told ya you’d like it.” He tossed the empty cup into the bin and dropped his bag to the ground, rummaging around inside to withdraw an envelope. “They’re gonna kill me, but I can’t wait.”

“What’s this?”

“Your birthday present. I had this sweet idea and we all chipped in for it.”

Richie’s fingers were fidgeting with the straps of his backpack and Eddie looked down at the envelope in his hands. It was thin and barely weighed anything, maybe just had a folded piece of paper inside.

“Please open it,” Richie said in a rush. “C’mon, I wanna see your reaction.”

“Won’t the others be pissed you gave it t—”

“I don’t care. It’s… It’s mostly from me, anyway.” Richie’s tongue darted out to lick across his lips and Eddie’s eyes followed the movement instinctively.

He carefully tore open the envelope, sliding his finger under the flap to break the seal, pulled out a small stack of slim, shiny pieces of paper and his heart kicked into gear, air getting stuck in his lungs.

Eddie stumbled backwards and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, oh my god! Richie! How did you—? Holy _shit_!” He squealed and lunged forwards to throw his arms around Richie’s neck, tears starting to prick behind his eyes. “Oh my god, thank you! Thank you! Wait, where is…” Eddie glanced back down at the two sets of tickets.

_The Bodyguard World Tour. Mansfield, Massachusetts. July 14, 1993._

_Bangor International Airport (BGR) to Boston Logan International Airport (BOS) return._

“Shit, Richie,” Eddie marvelled, unable to take his eyes off the concert tickets. “This must have cost a fortune.”

“It was worth it.” Richie’s gentle tone piqued Eddie’s interest and he looked up to see his friend smiling fondly at him. “To see you so happy like that.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed together and his eyes welled up with tears. He stepped forward to embrace Richie again but softer this time, pouring his adoration, his heart and soul into the hug. He couldn’t tell Richie how much he loved him, but maybe he could get him to feel it. Eddie squeezed, arms tight around Richie’s shoulders and Richie’s around his ribs squeezing back just as hard, his thumb rubbing across Eddie’s shoulder blade. Richie dropped his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck and breathed in, causing goosebumps to erupt all down Eddie’s side, and it almost seemed like Richie was indulging himself in Eddie the same way Eddie nosing at Richie’s collarbone was an indulgement of his own. There had been so many moments, nearly too many for Eddie to handle, that _screamed_ at him, told him that Richie felt the same way. Told him that Richie’s birthday party and prom night and this road trip were all Richie’s long-winded, roundabout way of giving Eddie a glimpse into his heart when he couldn’t bring himself to voice his feelings. All the jokes, all the playful bullying that seemed to be reserved solely for Eddie, it had to mean something. _He_ had to mean something special to Richie.

Even though he felt all thought-out from the past month of emotional turmoil, Eddie knew he had to keep thinking about this. He had to figure Richie out, no matter how diligently the boy tried to hide his emotions with mom jokes or detract from the intensity of his feelings with crude humour, somewhere under there, somewhere deep, there was something that Eddie had tapped into. Like a secret radio channel that only he knew about, there was a part of Richie that was practically begging to be uncovered every time he made a sexual comment about Eddie’s mother or teased Ben’s desire to learn or poked fun at Stan’s obsessive cleanliness. Richie was always screaming for attention, and Eddie always gave it to him. He just had to keep digging a little deeper and eventually, if his theory was correct, he’d find Richie’s true heart hidden in there somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pls don’t drag me for my lack of knowledge of American geography)
> 
> SO this month I hope to get out the last few chapters of part 1 (before they graduate), and then there might be a bit of a break before part 2 cause I go back to uni for my final year in March. We shall see how things go but I’m warning you now, updates will v likely get slower :(
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @bowtiescarves <3


	9. You just don’t care about us anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July - October 1993. Eddie and Richie have a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting note: the word ‘fuck’ is used 63 times in this chapter. Also heed the tags for warnings.

Since Richie mentioned California the other week, Eddie had been thinking a lot about where exactly they were going to move to next year. It was a little strange that they’d only really discussed New York, but Richie wasn’t exactly a proactive person so Eddie supposed he’d have to do all the work again. He was back in the library with Ben, who was showing him how to use the new desktop computers.

“Derry’s finally getting with the times,” Ben was saying, opening an internet browser. “It took so long for us to get even digital catalogues, but now we can finally net-surf, too!”

Eddie snorted. “Is that what the cool kids are calling it?”

“You’re welcome to work it out for yourself,” Ben teased. “So, you just type what you want into the search engine here and press return, it’ll show you all the websites that match. Easy peasy.”

Eddie sat at the computer for hours, typing and reading and jotting down notes to discuss with Richie later, only stopping his research when Mike came over to force him to have food after he skipped the lunch Ben offered him. He’d been so engrossed in his reading that he hadn’t even noticed the library was empty until Mike snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Earth to Eddie. We’re closing now, you’ve gotta leave.”

Eddie blinked. “What time is it?”

“Five. The library is closing and this is for you.” Mike put a box of pizza in front of him. “Ben got Richie to make your usual. Please make sure you eat it, okay Eddie? I’m going to finish packing up.”

Eddie gathered his notes and shut down the computer, opening the pizza box to the welcoming smell of cheese and garlic that made his mouth water and stomach growl angrily. Eddie found Mike behind the counter and thanked him several times for looking out for him and just being great in general, before heading home to review his research and get some well deserved rest.

Both he and Richie had the next day off work to get stuck into Eddie’s library findings. Sonia was out with her bridge or bingo friends, so Eddie told Richie to come over as early in the morning as he could manage. Richie showed up at 10am.

They were sprawled out on Eddie’s bedroom floor, having manoeuvred his bed and desk out of the way, giving them ample room to spread out the books and papers. Richie was reading through Eddie’s notes on LA, although he seemed to be rather distracted, eyes glazing over every few minutes before he blinked or shook his head and started reading from the top of the page again. Eddie figured he’d have to be the one to start a discussion or Richie would keep doing this all day and they’d achieve nothing.

“I guess one of the most important things to consider is college,” Eddie said. “I haven’t decided what I want to do and might even end up in general studies, so it shouldn’t matter too much what school I go to.”

Richie hummed thoughtfully, putting down the notebook and pushing his glasses up on his head to rub his eyes. “I’m not dead-set on the idea of even going to college.”

“Rich, come on. What are you gonna do then? Just work all the time? You’ll get so bored.”

“I don’t need to do more school to be a comedian or an actor or whatever.”

“An actor, you might.”

“Then fuck that, I’ll just do stand-up comedy on weekends and have a boring ass nine to five to pay the bills.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you wanna go to California? We can go to California if that’s what you want. New York was just the first place I thought of. I can… I don’t mind. We both need to be happy.”

“Nah, nah. _You_ need to be happy, Eds. You’re the brainiac here and this is your tertiary education we’re talkin’ about.”

“Alright, Mr Straight As,” Eddie scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Mr Straight As isn’t cut out for college, I can tell ya that much. High school may be easy but I wouldn’t be able to make it at university.”

“I think you need to cut yourself some slack.”

“I think you need to fucking drop it already,” Richie snapped.

Eddie blinked. “Richie—”

“Let’s think about money,” Richie cut in, sliding his glasses back on and looking down at the notebook, away from Eddie’s gaze. “That’s gotta be another important thing, right? We have to be able to afford an apartment and food and shit with the money we’re saving at least for a few months ‘till we get back on our feet.”

“Y-Yeah, um… LA and New York City are probably on par in terms of expenses, LA’s just obviously much further away so we’d need to factor in petrol and motels. We could look at somewhere a little smaller like Chicago or Seattle, I looked into them a bit, or maybe go to, like, Cali or New York and just stay away from the actual city, but then we’d have higher commuting costs and times to get anywhere.”

“I literally don’t care, Eds. Wherever you are is where I wanna be.”

Eddie hated how his heart rate picked up at that sentiment. “That’s not the point. We have to make these decisions _together_.”

Richie ran a hand through his hair and yanked his glasses off. He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I don’t fucking _know_.”

“Maybe we should both go to the library so you can read everything firsthand?” Eddie suggested.

“No, it’s fine, your notes are fine, I just…” Richie trailed off and looked away, staring out the window. Eddie waited, unmoving as he watched Richie take his time and collect his thoughts. “I’m starting to get scared,” Richie whispered.

Eddie sighed. He got up from the floor and clambered onto his bed. “Come here,” he said, arms out leaving no room for argument. “Bring that notebook and come here.”

Richie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he stood anyway and joined Eddie on the bed, tucking himself into Eddie’s side. Richie’s legs nearly dangled off the edge of the bed and he passed Eddie the notebook, leaving his hands free to lie his arm across Eddie’s middle, right above where Eddie propped up the book with one hand. Eddie carded his fingers through Richie’s hair a few times, feeling him relax into the touch, melting into Eddie’s side.

“Here,” Eddie spoke quietly, ran his index finger along a few lines he’d written about colleges in Los Angeles. “You could easily get into UCLA with your grades, and I’m perfectly fine to go to WesternU for health sciences and become a nurse or something.”

He paused while Richie’s eyes flitted across the page. “I don’t know if UCLA would be good for me. If I was to go to college, I don’t really wanna do academics.”

“They have a school for theatre, film and TV.”

Richie tilted his head up to look at Eddie. “They do?”

Eddie gave him a gentle smile. “Yeah, Rich. How have you not looked into this kinda stuff before?”

“‘Cause.” Richie shrugged, his nonchalance hurting Eddie’s heart a little. “I always figured I’d get into a field that doesn’t need higher education, y’know? It’s not like I actually _like_ math or anything, it just sort of comes naturally to me.”

Eddie let him read through the page before flipping it over to suggest somewhere else. “How about Chicago? The University of Chicago does fine arts and I would easily get into Northwestern for business or psych, even just general studies if I can’t make up my mind.”

“I don’t think you should do general studies, Eds. You’re too smart to do a bullshit, wishy-washy degree like that.”

“And you’re too smart to not go to college at all.”

“I don’t have to prove my intelligence or anything. And doing drama or whatever at university would hardly be a good use of my brain, as you keep saying. I just don’t see the point for me.”

Eddie was absently caressing his fingers over Richie’s shoulder, rubbing back and forth, gently soothing him. “It’ll give you something to do, some goals to work towards, learn stuff you actually enjoy and keep your brain active. Also, imagine having another, what, eight shows under your belt when you audition for actual paying jobs, yeah? Four years of study could do you good, Rich.”

Richie turned his head to bury his face in Eddie’s chest. “I guess,” he mumbled. “Also, you don’t need to just _settle_ for someplace where I get to apply for a good school and you just take whatever you get as long as it’s in the same city. What happened to us doing this _together_? I told you, I want you to be happy, Eds.”

Eddie patted his hair, pressing his nose into the mess of curls. “We don’t have to decide on anything right now. We just need to start thinking about it. I’m sure once school starts we’ll get brochures and information packs and shit from colleges all over the country, so we can save the actual decision making ‘till then, okay?”

“Mmkay.”

“Are you falling asleep? It’s barely midday!”

Richie hummed and nuzzled into Eddie’s collarbone. “You’re a soft boy, Spagheds. So cute and cuddly and… soft boy.”

“Keep calling me cute and you’ll be a stiff boy after I murder your ass and rigor mortis sets in.”

“I can be another kind of stiff if you want, Eds.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie quipped through a grin, running his hand through Richie’s hair again until Richie hummed. “Have a nap, Rich, I’ll wake you soon.”

Richie was back at Eddie’s house a few days later, having just been to the library to do his own research. He plopped himself down at Eddie’s desk with one of his old school notebooks, claiming this was the most he’d used it all year. Eddie was not surprised in the slightest. This time they discussed suburbs-and-commuting versus city-but-expensive. Richie was leaning towards city living, saying he carried most of the financial weight anyway. 

“That’s not fair,” Eddie insisted. “It’s not my fault my mom didn’t let me get a job for so long and I’m working almost every day now to make up for it.”

“I’m going to ask the guys at the Capitol if I can work at the arcade,” Richie said. “We need to build up more savings. Have you seen how fucking expensive rent is?”

“Yeah, Rich, while you were busy working, I’ve been researching like crazy to find the best possible life for us.”

“Me working is what’s gonna _allow_ us to even have this life.”

Eddie scoffed, jaw dropping slightly. “We’re both doing everything we can. Don’t take your shitty mood out on me.”

Then Richie, like the immature bastard he was, turned around with a huff and stuck his nose in his book. Eddie could hardly believe him sometimes.

A week before Eddie and Bev flew off to Massachusetts for the Whitney Houston concert, Richie was back in Eddie’s room, still sort of ignoring him after their little disagreement the other day.

“I think,” Eddie started tentatively, unsure what kind of mood Richie was in today, “regardless of where we choose, we should apply to the same schools and if we’re both accepted somewhere, we should apply for a dorm.”

“This is still assuming I’m down to go to college.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “We agreed—”

“You mean you decided—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Richie! You’re going to college!”

Richie’s jaw clenched. “You’re not my fucking parent, Eddie.”

“Your fucking parents don’t give a shit about what you do! But I do, and that makes me better than them.”

“Oh, you think so? You’re demanding and can’t control your aggression and always fucking have to get your way. At least they let me be myself.”

Now all of a sudden Richie wanted to defend his parents against _Eddie_ of all people? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “They barely even talk to you! I’m trying to help you not lose your mind out of boredom! I know better than anyone how you get when you have nothing to occupy yourself with.”

“You don’t know dick about what goes on in my mind.”

That comment stung and it set something off inside Eddie, disconnecting his brain from his mouth. “Really? I don’t know you all of a sudden? What, does that mean the obnoxious attention whore is just a pretense? I think I _do_ know what goes on in your mind – nothing! And that makes sense why you’re such a fucking idiot who always takes things too far and can’t take a fucking hint when people don’t wanna hear your stupid jokes! It’s no wonder you can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a few months ‘cause no one can fucking stand you!”

Richie recoiled into his seat, eyes shining with tears when Eddie’s brain finally caught up to him and he realised what he’d just said. The anger flowed out of him in an instant when he saw Richie’s face and he felt a pang of regret deep in his chest, his own eyes beginning to burn with tears.

“Richie,” Eddie choked out. “Richie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He took a step towards him but Richie jumped out of his seat immediately, backing himself up against the wall, as far away from Eddie as he could get without leaving the room.

“Please don’t go, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“No, you’re right, Eds.” Richie’s voice was quiet and weak and Eddie’s chest ached to hear him sound so small and defeated.

“No, no, I’m not. It was stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No one can stand to be around me for too long. Why do you think I hang around you so much? You’re the biggest dumbass of them all and the only one who'll put up with my bullshit.”

“Yeah, I’m a dumbass, but—but only for saying all that shit I didn’t mean. Richie, please.”

Eddie’d blown it. He’d absolutely blown it. Richie would get mad – rightfully so – and storm out and never speak to him again and all their plans and research and hard work would be thrown right out the window. Richie would get to keep his car and all his savings and Eddie would be stuck at UMaine, living with his mother until he died.

And, fuck, now he was being selfish and overreacting. Richie was still standing there, chin tucked into his chest, shoulders hunched over, and Eddie could see the wet patches growing on his t-shirt. Richie was upset, crying, because of what Eddie said to him, how he’d insulted him and called him horrible names and basically insinuated that none of their friends actually liked him. The air in the room weighed heavy on Eddie’s chest, the infrequent, quiet sobs that couldn’t quite be stifled coming from across the room reminding him of the damage he’d done. Eddie swallowed thickly, regret already gnawing away at his insides as he took a few hesitant steps towards Richie, the burn behind his own eyes intensifying, watching his friend’s shoulders tremble and tears continue to roll down his cheeks almost silently.

“Rich?” Eddie whispered, now standing in front of him.

Richie didn’t move, hands still balled up by his sides, head down and eyes squeezed shut. Eddie reached out and lightly brushed his fingers against one of Richie’s fists, letting him know he was about to touch him. When Richie didn’t retract his hand, Eddie took it properly, prying his stubborn fingers away from his palm so he could weave his own between them. Eddie ran his other hand up Richie’s arm, skirting across his shoulder and up to his face, cupping his cheek and using his thumb to swipe under his glasses and catch any tears. Usually, Richie was the one to initiate this kind of intimate contact, but since discovering how deeply he loved his best friend, Eddie couldn’t resist touching him like this, and it felt right in this moment.

“I’m sorry, Richie.” Eddie poured all his feelings into the sincerity of his tone. “I know I can’t tell you what to do with your life. I just want the best for you. So, if you don’t want to go to college, I’m not going to force you. And I’m sorry for saying your jokes are stupid and that no one thinks you’re funny. I love… your jokes an-and you _know_ I think you’re funny, we all do. I can hardly contain my laughter most of the time and I just tell you to shut up _because_ of how much I want to laugh at your jokes. Except when they’re about my mom. That shit is old and you need to get some new material.”

Richie huffed out something that resembled a laugh and finally opened his eyes. “Thanks, Eds,” he said quietly.

Eddie was almost violently reminded of the conversation he’d had with Richie at Christmas, when Richie had poured his heart out to Eddie, telling him how important he was and how he’d never abandon their plans for anything or anyone. How Eddie had just laid there next to him and stared, brain processing, and then thanked him and went to sleep. He remembered Richie telling him he loved him in what Eddie had thought at the time was a completely and utterly platonic way. Now, standing on the other side of the equation, baring his own soul to Richie and being thanked almost nonchalantly in return, the strong feeling of déjà vu coupled with all the stares and touches and _moments_ from their road trip last month, Eddie couldn’t help but again wonder…

_Maybe Richie feels the same._

Not that it would matter at this point. Eddie had told himself during their road trip that he needed to keep thinking about his friendship with Richie, but he’d been realising more and more why that wasn’t a good idea at all. Eddie was not about to talk to Richie about his romantic feelings any time soon and he could hardly imagine Richie wanting to either, if those feelings were even there and Eddie hadn’t just imagined it. The soul-baring conversations the two of them had always had one clear message: _you are my best friend and nothing is going to change that._ So, even if Richie _did_ feel the same, if he’d somehow been lying his way through two relationships (although, that would explain the somewhat random breakups), Eddie knew neither of them were going to risk their friendship to _possibly_ pursue something further, especially when that something might have just been Eddie projecting onto his friend and not even a real something at all.

He squeezed Richie’s hand again until he looked up from his feet. “You okay?”

Richie shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”

And that was good enough for now.

Eddie slammed a bunch of newspapers from Bangor, Boston and Mansfield on the desk in front of Richie. He’d just gotten back the previous day after the concert in Massachusetts with Beverly and had been so exhausted from dancing and screaming that he’d crashed the moment he’d gotten home. He opened all three newspapers up to the same section and started pointing at various property advertisements to show Richie.

“This is what we’re gonna have to look at in the local paper wherever we end up. It shows you the address and rent amount and bedrooms and things like that. We can look through the papers and also go into the real estate offices and see what apartments they have available when we get there.”

Richie’s eyes danced over the pages. “Okay, yeah. I mean, obviously this isn’t as expensive as LA or NYC would be, but it’s probably a decent indicator of prices in other, smaller places, right? Maybe we could find a place for five hundred a month in outer suburban New York or something?”

“Yeah, maybe. I imagine inner suburbs would be _way_ too much, maybe unless we just had one bedroom… Huh.”

Richie cocked his head. “That’s actually not a bad idea, Eds. Think about it. We could just get two single beds and chuck ‘em on opposite sides of the room, and it’s basically like living in a dorm but with our own bathroom and kitchen.”

“I do like the sound of our own bathroom.”

“Knew ya would, you little neat freak.”

“So, are California and New York our best contenders at the moment, then?”

“Yep, I’m likin’ the sound of that…”

There was a pause, the tone of Richie’s voice almost suggesting he wanted to continue talking.

“But?” Eddie prompted.

“No ‘buts’. Although, always butts.” Richie winked and Eddie rolled his eyes. “Actually, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good sign.”

“Zip it, Spaghetti. This is important, and also a little hard for me to say.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. Floor’s all yours.”

“I, uh—” Richie nibbled on his bottom lip. “Youwereright,” he blurted.

“I’m sorry?” Eddie folded his arms across his chest, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. This would be good.

“You… were right… about the college thing. I decided that I wanna major in theatre. Not picky about where, anywhere in New York or Cali is fine with me, as long as you find a major you wanna do, too.”

Eddie’s half-smile grew into a full-blown grin. “What made you change your mind?”

“I did some research while you and Bev were away. Obviously bored out of my brain ‘cause I had no Spaghettis to harass and no Ms Ringwalds to smoke with so I used my day off to actually do what you suggested.” Richie dropped his head and fiddled with the rips in his jean shorts. “I was looking at the programs at NYU and UCLA like you said and… I liked how some of them sounded. There was even a few pictures and it just looked like so much _fun_ and I really love performing and just… it was a good idea. Thank you, Eds.”

Eddie could not have been happier.

This peace lasted a few more weeks, and as summer neared its end, Eddie was actually feeling rather confident with their plans.

_Study hard and maintain grades._

_Apply to basically every college in LA and NYC._

_Get accepted into either the same school or schools in the same part of the city (don’t think about what will happen if no financial aid)._

_Find an apartment._

_Offer rent in advance to boost application appeal._

_Get new jobs to be financially secure._

_Finally be fucking happy._

It was a flawless plan, Eddie thought. Except for the part about financial aid. He had no doubt that Richie could get a full-ride to any college he wanted, but for once, Richie wasn’t the problem here. Eddie had been working as hard as ever in the few weeks before senior year even started, talking to Sandy and Melissa about SATs and college applications, spending every spare moment studying in preparation for the first semester with Ben and Stan. He’d done quite well on his pre-SATs last year and Melissa tried to assure him that he’d be fine as long as he kept his GPA up, but even that was starting to stress him out. Eddie had no qualms with English, psychology or even PE, but the rest of his junior classes were not even close to having top marks, even with his friends’ help, and senior year was surely going to be far worse. He started to consider seeing teachers after school or even getting a tutor to keep him on top of things.

The fighting started up again, worse than before, once the school year resumed. Eddie shared homeroom with Bill, successfully completing their entire schooling career in each other’s class, and calculus with Richie again. Even though it was exactly the same number of periods as last year, having to spend time with Richie in class on top of seeing him every single second they weren’t working or studying was really starting to take its toll on their friendship.

Even after just one week back at school, Eddie was ready to murder Richie. He was always just… _chatting_ like nothing was serious, like they didn’t have to get their asses into gear if they wanted to successfully pull off their extravagant getaway plan. Richie was still goofing off in calc and Stan said he was the same in AP physics, almost like he didn’t care about his grades – Eddie knew that Richie found it monumentally difficult to remain focused in class and just _got_ math and science, but it was still infuriating. He could have at least tried to pay attention in class, even just for Eddie’s sake.

They were hanging out at Richie’s on Saturday night after his shift, making more detailed notes about California and New York specifically. Eddie had ducked into the library after school to print off some pages from NYU’s website, which was basically just a big block of text with some coloured headings and a photograph or two, which Richie was now reading through, chatting away about the various faculties and courses the university offered. Eddie was reading up on LA’s economic situation to assess whether they would actually be able to afford to live there or not.

“Hey, Rich, your pay will increase once you’re eighteen, right?”

“Uh, yeah, probably? I dunno how that shit works, to be honest. But also, maybe people in not-Maine tip bet—” Richie’s bedroom phone started ringing and he leapt off the bed to answer it. “‘Ello, ‘ello. Hey dude, what’s up? Oh. Shit, really? Yeah, he’s here. ‘Course, we’ll be there soon. Sorry, man.” He put down the phone and turned to Eddie.

“Who was that?”

“Big Bill. Apparently there was a sleepover tonight that we forgot about?”

Eddie blinked. “Oh, fuck, you’re right.”

The two of them had been so caught up in their research that the whole conversation the Losers had at lunch yesterday slipped their minds. Eddie stood up from the desk and went over to Richie’s cupboard, grabbing his backpack and tossing in a Beatles t-shirt and one of his own spare pairs of comfortable shorts that he’d started keeping here over the summer for when he came over straight after a shift. He turned to find that Richie had finished packing up Eddie’s notebooks and paper and had stacked them in two neat piles on the desk.

“Ready to go, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Yeah. Although, we probably could have just blown it off and continued what we were doing. We do enough shit just the two of us that they wouldn’t suspect anything.”

Richie frowned. “We have all year to do this, but these snooze-a-thons are now gonna be few and far between once the workload kicks in. We gotta make the most of our time as the lucky seven before we blow them off for good.”

“I guess you’re right,” Eddie said, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d like to say they spent enough time with their friends over the summer already, but that also wasn’t the case. The truth was that Eddie was just as stressed about this as Richie, he just kept it inside instead of taking it out on his friend as Richie had. He would probably regret it later, but now, with only school, work and college on the brain, The Losers’ Club could be put on the back burner for a little while.

Eddie had not told his mother, but he was still working at the salon every fortnight on Saturdays, and Linda had said he could continue to do so for as long as he wanted, just to let her know a week prior if he needed the day off to study. Eddie was really quite fond of Linda.

Today he was on with Melissa, discussing which Mariah Carey album had a better sound and Eddie was definitely leaning towards the second one. He had the salon phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, jotting down a client’s appointment, while Melissa went and put on Mariah’s EP with a stupid grin on her face. Eddie flipped her off, grimacing his way through the rest of the phone conversation.

“Okay, firstly, fuck you, Mel.”

“Eddie!” Linda called from the other side of the salon where she was washing a client’s hair. “I love you, kiddo, but watch your damn language.”

The door to the salon swung open, bell chiming, and in walked Beverly. “Eddie!”

“Jesus, what’s with you Marshs and yelling at me today?”

She ignored his question. “Dude, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, I work here?”

“It’s the twenty-first?”

“So?”

Bev gawked. “Game night? Hello? We were planning this all summer!”

“Oh. Oh! Right, whoops.” Eddie did not actually remember this.

Linda popped up beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go, Eddie. Have fun with your friends. You’ve worked so hard this summer and school’s about to give you hell. You deserve this.”

Beverly nearly had to drag him out of the salon and he pointedly ignored Melissa’s smug grooving as the door shut behind him. He and Bev didn’t talk that much on the walk over to Bill’s place, mostly because Eddie was giving her nothing to work with, all one-word-answers and shrugs and avoiding questions about his recent whereabouts. He wasn’t quite sure why he was behaving like this, but he suspected it had a lot to do with the stress he was under. Possibly he’d also realised that he might never see his friends again and wanted to protect his heart, starting to distance himself now in preparation for the inevitable pain that was to come after graduation.

Everyone was crowded around a board game on the floor when they arrived. Ben and Stan were thrashing the others in Monopoly; Richie had already gone bankrupt and Bill had a Pepsi in his hand, distractedly watching Richie fail at whatever he was doing on his Game Boy. Eddie joined them on the floor, sitting down next to Richie.

“Eds! You made it!” Richie exclaimed, throwing an arm around him.

“Ugh, get off me, dickhead. Bill, you need a teammate?”

Eddie and Bill still lost tragically, as did Mike and Beverly’s team, leaving Ben and Stan to play against each other for as long and as viciously as they pleased. Eddie retreated to the kitchen in search of a diet soda and when he rejoined the others, everyone was again leaning over the Monopoly board, Bev and Bill behind Ben, Richie sprawled across Stan and Mike’s laps, all cheering on their friends as the game came to a head. It was Ben’s turn, his piece standing on Picadilly, only a few places away from Stan’s highly populated Park Lane and Mayfair. Ben was almost sweating, even though, as Eddie glanced at the board, the two of them were pretty neck and neck. Mike squeezed Stan’s shoulder, Bill and Beverly cheering in Ben’s ear as he picked up the dice and shook them. Eddie took a seat between the two teams, not nearly as invested as everyone else, but smiling all the same.

The two players left in the game made eye contact, the corner of Stan’s lip twitching into a smirk.

“Roll, Hanscom.”

Ben rolled. The cheering stopped as everyone’s eyes followed the dice across the board.

It was an eight.

Richie’s hands flew into the air as Stan’s team erupted with cheers and applause, and Eddie leaned over to pat Stan on the back.

“Spaghetti! We won!”

“Excuse you, _I_ fucking won, Richard.” Stan shoved him playfully. “Pay up, Ben. I want to count my winnings.”

Ben begrudgingly handed over all of his money to a very smug looking Stan, who counted the notes aloud and then added his name, total and the date to the list in the box titled ‘The Winning Losers’.

While the others went to grab more snacks and drinks and pack up, Eddie settled himself on the couch. He glanced at the coffee table where a bunch of card games were sitting and spotted Bill’s copy of their English novel hidden beneath them. Eddie fished through the games and flipped the book open to where he was up to.

Ben appeared at his side a few minutes later to grab one of the card games from the stack. “You gonna come play?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” Eddie replied, distracted, determined to finish the page he was on.

“We’re waiting for you, Eddie!” came Beverly’s voice from the middle of the room.

“Hm?” He looked up. His friends were sitting in a circle, some watching him, some already shuffling cards or drinking soda. He must have been reading for longer than he realised.

Ben beckoned him over. “Come on.”

“Hold on.”

“Let’s just start,” Richie muttered, but Eddie wasn’t really listening. “He’s been in this mood lately.”

Eddie had made it through a few chapters of the novel when the couch dipped with the weight of someone next to him. It was Mike.

“Are you alright, Eddie?” He sounded far more concerned than was necessary.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, reading this book and not paying any of us much attention, and now you’re not even looking at me when I’m speaking.”

Eddie snapped the book shut. “Sorry, Mike. What were you saying?”

Mike pursed his lips. “Are you okay? I… Richie said you’ve been kind of an ass lately. Is something going on? You know we’re always here if you need to talk, Eddie.”

“Richie said that, did he?” Eddie scoffed. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. I’m just… stressed… about school. And the upcoming English essay. I saw the book and it reminded me and freaked me out a little.”

“Why don’t you take a break? We’re supposed to be having fun here. It’ll be okay. I’m sure Stan or someone can help you out with the essay another time.”

“No, no, it’s okay, Mike. But thank you. You go play cards, it’s fine.”

Mike eyed him sceptically for a few moments. “Okay, Eddie, if you’re sure.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go on.”

Eddie watched as Mike went to join the rest of them, Bill taking the first turn while Beverly chugged a whole Pepsi and Ben watched her in awe, Stan shaking his head and playing after Bill, Richie mocking the way Stan held his cards and then losing the round within two turns. Eddie smiled. If these were the last few months he’d get to spend with the Losers, he didn’t want to waste them. But he also didn’t want to get hurt, and if that meant distancing himself from his friends, little by little until graduation, if that meant seeing teachers at lunchtime and hanging around his new friends from track and sitting in the corner while the rest of them laughed and drank together, sulking silently now to reduce the heartbreak later, then that was what Eddie would do. That was what Eddie had to do.

It was only the next day when it came to Eddie’s attention that Richie was not happy with this decision.

They were at Eddie’s house again while Sonia was doing her fortnightly Sunday shopping, Richie on the floor and Eddie on the bed. They’d been sitting mostly in silence, alternating for the past two hours between homework and getaway research, with Eddie currently frowning at his psych textbook.

“Hey, you know science stuff, right?” Eddie asked, peering down at Richie.

“Oh, he speaks, does he?” Richie grumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Yes, I know science stuff. What’s up?”

Eddie huffed, psychology forgotten. “What are you mumbling to yourself about?”

“Nothing,” Richie insisted. “Let me see your psych book, I’ll figure it out.”

And Eddie really, really should have left it at that.

“No, tell me. What are you talking about, ‘he speaks’? Of course I speak.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I thought you weren’t being proper friends with any of us anymore. Y’know, The Losers’ Club, remember them?”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

Richie pushed his notebook aside and sat up to look at Eddie. “Okay, let me spell it out for you, genius: it was not fucking cool how you blew us all off at Bill’s yesterday to read your stupid fucking book.”

Eddie scoffed. Richie was being ridiculous. “What, suddenly I’m not allowed to read anymore?”

“Shut the fuck up, I know exactly what you’re doing, Eddie. You fucking told me last week how you wanted to skip the sleepover to do more of this research! You’re always going on and on about colleges and grades and apartments. This shit is _consuming_ you, it’s like you’ve completely forgotten who your friends are! That, or you just don’t care about us anymore.”

And that set Eddie off like a firecracker.

“Well, I’m sorry if I give too much of a shit about our future!” he lashed out, arms thrown in the air. “I’m the one holding this shit together and while you’re off drinking yourself stupid at sleepovers or playing tonsil hockey with who-the-fuck-ever or wasting time playing fucking arcade games, _some of us_ are preparing for if we’re, you know, living off the fucking streets until we get ourselves sorted!”

“At least I’m spending time with our fucking friends before we abandon them for good!”

“And it’ll hurt you that much more because of it!”

Richie clapped once, viciously, and pointed at Eddie with a fire in his eyes. “Ha! I knew it! You’re just as scared as I am, you’re just being a fucking dickhead about it. You’re neglecting our friends because you don’t want it to hurt so badly when we leave, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, nice deductions, Sherlock. It’s good to know you still have a brain since I never fucking see you use it anymore.”

Richie’s brows rose. “Excuse me? What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“How the hell do you expect to get a scholarship anywhere if you do fuck all in _and_ out of class? We’re seniors now! You have to lift your fucking game and start taking school seriously, Richie, or we’re both doomed!”

“Oh, fuck you, my grades are higher than your fucking dreams, Eddie. I got fives on both my AP classes last year. _You’re_ the one who’ll have to worry about getting a scholarship anywhere that’s not fucking UMaine!”

Eddie faltered. “I’m trying my fucking best here. You’re still skipping class to stick your tongue down Emily Whiting’s throat. At least if I’m abandoning our friends, I’m doing it for a proper fucking reason.”

“I’m not abandoning anyone,” Richie scowled. “I’m working four days a week at Dominos and two nights cleaning the Capitol and I _still_ manage to find time to hang out with everyone. You’re so tightly wound that you don’t even realise how much our friends miss you! All you fucking do is study and work and research and you’re wasting your fucking time every moment not spent with the Losers because we don’t have many of those left!”

“No, you don’t get it! Doing those things is spending my time wisely!”

“Doing those things is driving me away!”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut before he had a chance to spit out another retort, Richie’s words settling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. The anger behind Richie’s eyes dissipated, but his expression remained bitter, lip curled into a scowl.

“You’re pushing us all away in favour of something that _is_ important, yes, but it’s going to mean jack shit if you lose our friends in the process.”

“We’re going to lose our friends anyway, Richie. I’m just being smart about it.”

Richie stared at him for a long moment. “No, you’re not, Eddie.” He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You’re really fucking not.”

Watching Richie walk out of his room, Eddie’s insides coiled and his heart thumped angrily against his ribs, hostility still flowing through him, biting at his veins, but slowly being replaced by regret as his chest tightened and the adrenaline wore away. His eyes began to fill up with tears but he blinked them back, willed them away because right now, Eddie felt like he _hated_ Richie.

But he also felt like he was going to die without him.

* * *

Richie’s stomach filled with cold dread as he sat in his car in front of the school on Monday morning, knowing that Eddie was somewhere inside that building, probably feeling just as miserable as he was.

This fight was different, Richie knew. Deeper, somehow. Whenever they’d argued in the past, Richie would still feel comfortable enough while the Losers hung out to slip in a few jokes intended for Eddie until the boy cracked and laughed or called him playful names. But they’d never had a fight like this before. Not until just this summer had their arguing actually reached the point where they’d called each other genuinely hurtful names, where Eddie seriously yelled at him or Richie snapped back with such vile language, and the worst part was that the fight that sent Richie home yesterday wasn’t even fueled with that much aggression or personal attacks or anything like their other fights these past few months – it was just both of them being so genuinely, deeply hurt by the other’s actions that it drove them apart.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t fucking furious with Eddie. No, Richie wasn’t about to go crawling back to him and begging for forgiveness just because he was in love with the guy. Eddie still had faults, he’d still prodded and Richie had opened his mouth and spoke his mind like always and Eddie had no reason to retaliate the way he did. Eddie was the one in the wrong here and it would be a cold day in hell when Richie decided to apologise first.

Okay, Richie maybe (definitely) said some things he shouldn’t have, particularly about Eddie’s intelligence, but it was far too late to take it back now. Eddie would get over it eventually. Or not, and their getaway plan would be fucked, and Richie would be stuck in a dead-end job in some backwater town in Ohio with no money or diploma to his name. He was probably overreacting but until Eddie apologised for being such a dick, not just to him but to their whole group, Richie wasn’t saying a goddamn thing.

Stan opened the driver’s door and reached across Richie to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Come on, Rich. You can’t sit here all day.”

After stumbling out of Eddie’s house through tears, Richie had somehow managed to drive to Stan’s where he’d stayed last night, gotten high, tried to throw himself out of the bathroom window only to land unceremoniously on the grass because he’d forgotten the Uris’ was a single storey house, and fallen asleep on the floor with tear-tracks on his blotchy cheeks. Stan had bought him caffeine on their way to school this morning and had been sitting in the car with him for at least ten minutes until just now.

“Watch me,” Richie replied, but got out anyway.

He decided that skipping calc would be his best option, chose instead to smoke his last cigarette outside the art rooms and watch Emily and Ben working on some ceramic sculpture together. He was way ahead of class for math anyway and this was far more soothing and enjoyable than sitting next to Eddie and Tammy for an hour.

Lunch was hard. Stan said Bill wanted to take everyone outside because it was a warm day, and eventually he and Richie found the rest of them sitting at a table in the courtyard. It wasn’t as loud as the cafeteria and the sun beaming down on them was actually quite nice, although with Richie’s pale skin, he was probably going to get burnt.

He sat down on the opposite side to Eddie, next to Bill, and Stan sat on Richie’s other side. Usually one to crack a joke within seconds of entering a room, Richie’s silence instantly caused a layer of tension to settle over the group, some of their eyes darting between their friends, trying to determine what was wrong. Eddie and Ben had been talking when Richie arrived, but their conversation slowly petered off when they noticed no one else saying anything. Eddie’s eyes bored into his food, hands hovering over his home packed sandwich like it might jump out of its wrapper and bite him if he weren’t careful. He didn’t even look at Richie when he spoke.

“I see you skipped class again.”

“I see you’re hanging out with us again.”

And now Richie’d fucking done it.

“Fucking, stop!” Eddie smacked his hands against the table, head shooting up to glare straight at Richie, who’s lips twitched into a smirk, always feeling some kind of strange pleasure from getting a rise out of Eddie. “I can’t fucking believe you! After what we _just_ talked about?!”

“Gu-Guys—”

“I’m not gonna suddenly change just ‘cause you threw a little bitch fit,” Richie snapped, ignoring Bill. “Which makes me think you’re only here right now ‘cause you wanna prove me wrong or some bullshit like that!”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t do _shit_ for you.”

“You don’t do shit for anyone but yourself, you selfish asshole.”

“At least I’m gonna fucking graduate!”

Richie stood up. “Fuck you, Eddie,” he spat, blunt fingernails digging into his palms so he didn’t fucking punch something, pushed the seat back to get up properly, leaving his food abandoned on the table. He took a few steps away from the bench and spun around to glare at Eddie.

“Ri-Ri-Richie, please don’t do this,” Bill was practically begging, because _of course_ Eddie had told him about their fight already and Bill hated Richie now. Richie didn’t tell Stan what had actually happened and was purely operating on instinct here, hoping that he wasn’t as insignificant to The Losers’ Club as he sometimes felt.

“I’m leaving,” Richie said.

“Don’t t-tea-tear the group apart, Rich.”

“I’m _leaving_ , and if no one is coming with me… then fine.”

“You can’t mmmmake us choose s-s-s-si-sides.”

Beverly stood up as soon as the words were out of Bill’s mouth. Richie’s heart thudded with relief and he let out a shaky breath as she walked over and stood next to him, feet planted firmly on the ground, arms crossed over her chest.

Ben was watching Eddie, glanced between him, Bill and Beverly several times, jaw clenched like this was the hardest decision he’d ever had to make, which it quite possibly was. Then Ben got up, too.

Mike put one hand on Bill’s forearm and reached the other across the table to hold Eddie’s. Eddie flinched slightly at the sudden touch, still staring straight at Richie.

Stan’s head was down, eyes fixed on the table in front of him and Richie’s breath hitched. When Stan finally looked up, his eyes were wet, and he turned his head ever so slowly to look at Bill. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, Bill’s lip quivering as Stan sucked in a deep breath and stood up.

“S-Sta-Stan,” Bill choked, his free hand grasping at Stan’s as he stepped away from the bench.

Stan clenched his eyes shut, whispered, “I’m sorry, Billy,” and let Bill’s hand fall.

Richie steeled his expression and looked back at Eddie. The fire was gone from his eyes, having accepted that this really was happening. Richie set his jaw, determined not to cry, and turned around, Bev and Ben right behind him. Stan lingered for a few seconds, and then he, too, fell in line. The four of them left the courtyard, went towards the cafeteria, and only when the remaining three Losers were out of sight did Richie finally let a sob fall from his lips.

In the weeks following his fight with Eddie and the consequential split of The Losers’ Club, Richie did not know what to do with himself. He’d taken to keeping busy every second of every day, moving between school, where he actually attended all his classes; work, where he’d practically begged his manager to give him shifts seven days a week until close; and home, where he buried his head in his textbooks, guitar and stereo until he passed out from exhaustion, leaving absolutely no time be left alone with his thoughts.

Despite the apparently clear split among their friends, they obviously still all cared about each other, and it ended up being Ben who moved between the two halves, updating everyone on everyone else’s lives, except Richie and Eddie, who still wanted nothing to do with each other and stayed completely out of the loop. Ben stayed with Richie, Stan and Beverly during school hours, though, where they’d claimed the cafeteria table and left the others with the courtyard table.

Richie’s half of the Losers hadn’t really pressed for details about what went down between him and Eddie – he’d told them they’d fought about college and Eddie being distant, which was at least half the truth and no one had asked any questions, so Richie hadn’t needed to dwell on it any longer and found himself repressing every thought of Eddie that popped into his head.

In those first couple of weeks, whenever his brain did manage to fight its way into being acknowledged, Richie ended up at Stan’s place, partially because he lived closer than Beverly and partially because he already knew about Richie’s dumb affinity for Eddie. That affinity had dwindled slightly since the fight – Richie wasn’t really thinking about Eddie like that right now because he wasn’t really thinking about Eddie at all. It was strange, he thought, since Eddie had been such a prominent feature in Richie’s mind for so many years, to suddenly feel this air of indifference whenever the boy did weave his way into his thoughts. Apparently being so utterly appalled at a person’s actions could do that, even if that person used to feel like his only reason for waking up every morning.

But Stan’s house, particularly his bedroom, reminded Richie too much of Eddie for him to keep spending so much time there, even with his newfound distaste for Eddie’s behaviour. Something about having spent several nights there crying himself to sleep because of Eddie in the past few months, coupled with the many similarities between the layout and general clean feeling of Eddie’s and Stan’s spaces, but Richie found himself dreading the times when Eddie came to mind because now his place of refuge wasn’t even a safe space anymore.

That was how Richie ended up wasting his spare time away with Beverly and her friend from work, Sandy. Even though Eddie also worked with Sandy, it seemed her loyalty to Bev outweighed any new friendship she’d formed with Eddie, and she’d bluntly told Richie that she was on his side and Eddie could go fuck himself straight after introducing herself to him for the first time. Richie liked Sandy immediately.

Sandy was funny and kept up with his jokes, laughed at things he said and encouraged his stupid Voices. She was also really fucking smart (although a little pretentious about it), having done a lot of social studies in her senior year, world history and government and the like, and was now studying economics part-time at UMaine with the hope to get into fucking law school. Richie was not shy in expressing how impressed he was and Sandy drank in his praise. More than all that, though, was how they got along seamlessly, just fell into conversations, sometimes with jokes, sometimes not, but always engaging.

Days turned into weeks and it was suddenly mid-October, and Richie had been spending nearly every day after work hanging out with Bev and/or Sandy. The school’s fall play was opening next week but Richie didn’t even audition for the male lead this time because the character’s fucking name was Eddie. Of all names! Being a background character was easy; he only had to attend rehearsals once a week, giving him plenty of time to keep up with school work, his two jobs, and get high with his friends. They’d invited Stan and Ben many times, but they’d always declined, much preferring to spend their spare time in the library studying or Stan dragging Ben off to bird watch with him, although Ben was a fucking nerd and probably enjoyed it far more than Richie ever had.

It was a Sunday evening and Sandy and Richie were together already, hanging out in the middle of the woods, not too far from the quarry, waiting for Bev to show up after seeing her weed dealer. The two of them settled on the ground, backs against a large tree, sharing a cigarette. Richie had come straight from his shift at Dominos, had tried to ruffle his hair back into some semblance of tameness after tossing his stupid work hat into the back of his car. It wasn’t like he was trying to look good for Sandy or anything, he just hated hat hair.

She passed him the smoke. “Opinion on Nirvana’s new album?”

He took a long drag and contemplated the question. “I like Serve The Servants. I can actually sing that one pretty good. Milk It is also fun. I like weird music.”

“Do you listen to much Tool? They’re literally the definition of weird music.”

“You clearly haven't listened to Primus,” Richie snickered, passed the cigarette back. “Yeah, I’ve heard Tool, I think.”

“I’ve got both their albums. You should come over and we can listen to them. Test your music knowledge figuring out all their weird ass time signatures.”

“There’s that one Beatles song with a weird ass time signature. It switches like five or six times during the fucking three minute song.”

Sandy hummed. “Oh yeah, Happiness Like A Warm Gun or something?”

“Yeah, whatever that one. Although, nothing can beat fucking… hold on.” Richie grabbed the smoke and held it vertically up to his mouth like a tiny microphone. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he began in his best Award Show Host Voice, “The music-Oscar for most—”

“AMA, dickhead,” Sandy cut in.

“—The AMA for most fucked up song to ever exist goes to… drumroll please, Sandra!”

She smacked her palms repeatedly against her thighs for a few seconds, watching him with a grin.

“Bah dum tis!” Richie mimed the drum beats. “I Am The Walrus! Fuckin’ _goo goo g’joob,_ motherfucker!”

“God, yes!” Sandy laughed, the back of her head thumping against the tree trunk. “ _Goo goo g’joob!_ They were high as a fucking kite.”

Richie snickered and their laughter died down a bit, before the two fell into a comfortable silence, passing the cigarette back and forth for a few minutes longer until Beverly finally arrived. They butted out their cigarette and replaced it with a freshly rolled joint, Sandy taking a hit first and passing it to Richie. The joint made its way around twice while they continued to talk about ridiculous music.

Richie ended up on his back, hands tucked behind his head, Sandy’s head resting on the space between his shoulder and bicep and Bev’s on his stomach. Sandy pointed at the stars above them.

“See that group of stars there? That’s the Big Dipper.”

Richie squinted at the sky as Beverly hummed and nodded, joint hanging out of her mouth.

Sandy continued, “If we’d done this a few months ago in summer, it’d look like it was pouring its contents out, like a bunch of stars falling out of a giant saucepan, but you can’t see them so well in October.” She tilted her head and it gently knocked against Richie’s cheek, moving her arm slightly to point at another constellation. “That one’s the North Star.”

“How do you know so much about astronomy?” Richie turned his head to ask.

Sandy’s eyes glanced up to meet his. “I took honours physics in junior year and loved the unit we did on stars, so I spent a lot of time last year reading up on it and came out here all the time to stargaze.” She shrugged, looking back at the sky. “I love the stars.”

Richie watched her eyes dance around, sparkling with passion, lips curved into a soft smile, for just a few moments longer than probably necessary. When he followed suit, looking up at the stars above them, trying to see what Sandy saw and accepting the joint Bev clumsily handed him, a smile crept up on Richie’s face, too, and it was probably the most genuine smile he’d had in weeks.

Richie’s lips were sore from kissing and he was at least glad that he was the one lying down and Sandy was half-sitting, half-hovering on top of him, because if he’d been holding his own body weight up for the last half hour, his beanpole arms would’ve probably given in and he’d crush her.

He wasn’t quite sure how this started, if he was being honest.

They’d been having dinner with their friends, a midweek catchup, laughing and talking and sharing food for hours. Ben had been next to him and Richie had unfortunately been the recipient of Beverly’s attempt at footsie three times before he loudly, playfully confessed to Ben that his girl was after him. Sandy had cracked up laughing and Beverly had flipped him off, apologising to Ben. Bev and Ben had left the diner just as they’d all ordered a few small desserts, leaving Richie and Sandy to finish without them. Richie had joked about them running off to fuck and he’d never seen anyone blush as much as Ben did at that statement. Beverly had smacked Richie’s arm and told him to mind his own damn business, but she smiled as she took Ben’s hand and led him out to his new car, Richie and Sandy still giggling in their seats.

Richie blamed it on the way Sandy ate her chocolate mousse. She had to know what she was doing, surely. He’d just been watching her eat, a little distracted by her red lipstick, and then all of a sudden she was licking her spoon and looking up at him through her lashes. Richie was only human, after all. He’d leaned back in the booth, one arm resting across the back of the seat, the other holding his milkshake, and sucked on his straw, still maintaining eye contact with her. She’d smirked, put her spoon down and leaned forward to say, “My parents are out of the state. They left today and won’t be back until Sunday night.”

Next thing he’d known, Sandy had been driving his car to her place, fumbling with her keys in the front door, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him with a feverish intensity he’d never experienced before. She clearly knew what the fuck she was doing. He wasn’t sure how they made it to the bedroom, given that his legs had felt like they were going to give out at any moment, but he’d crawled on top of her until she’d rolled them over, and now here they were.

Richie, who was never able to keep his mouth shut, was mumbling in between kisses. “Who knew… talking about your friends… getting laid was such a… turn on for you.”

Sandy hummed and moved from his mouth down his jaw to his neck and _oh,_ that was nice. Richie hadn’t really done this sort of kissing with Emily because they’d both been rather inexperienced, and Tammy had been far too selfish to reciprocate most of what he did to her, but _Sandy_ , wow. Richie had been jerking off for long enough to know that strange parts of his body were weirdly sensitive, but it was far different having someone else’s mouth on his neck than just the soft caress of his own hand.

When she worked her lips back up from his collarbone to his jaw and whispered in his ear, it shouldn’t have been surprising, but was somehow the last thing he expected her to say.

“Wanna fuck?”

Richie tensed, hands stilling where they had racked her skirt up her thighs. “I-I don’t—”

“It’s okay, I do. And I’m on the pill, too.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Oh, shit. _Shit_.” Sandy sat up, respectfully keeping her hips off his. He fumbled to grab his glasses from the nightstand so he could see her. “I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, no, it’s not you, at all. Believe me.”

Sandy raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Oh,” she smirked, lowered herself on top of his crotch for a moment, “I know.”

Richie’s cheeks flushed hot. He swallowed. “I’ve just had a lot going on lately with my friends and all, you know? I’m just not really feeling… anything, at the moment.”

“Richie, it’s fine, you don’t have to explain yourself. ‘No’ is enough.”

“You’re being very calm about this.”

Sandy shrugged and rolled off his lap, reached over to pull out a cigarette and lighter from the drawer. “I mean, yeah, I’m into you, I’m sure you’ve gathered that much.” She took a long drag and Richie chuckled. “But I’ve been rejected and I’ve done the rejecting before, so I get it. It’s no big deal.”

Richie blinked a few times, accepting the cigarette she held out to him. “That is surprisingly mature, Sands.”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” she scoffed and Richie’s breath caught in his throat, choking on the smoke in his mouth. He spluttered, forcing the thoughts that swarmed through his mind away and got up, stumbling across the room to open the window. He heard Sandy light herself another cigarette, stuck his head out into the cool night and inhaled deeply.

_Go away, Eddie._

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

When he turned back around, expression effectively schooled, Richie let his eyes drift over Sandy’s body, sprawled out on the bed, blonde hair sticking up in all directions from where his hands had messed it up earlier, illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through the window. One ankle crossed over the other, one arm folded and the other elbow resting against her wrist, cigarette hanging out of her mouth where her lipstick was all but gone, a slight smudge on her cupid’s bow. She was gorgeous.

“If you change your mind,” Sandy said, effectively dragging his eyes back up to her face where she was smirking, having caught him staring, “The offer’s always there.”

Richie nodded, mouth curving around his cigarette into a gentle smile. “Thanks, bub.”

He was seventeen years old and his goddamn back ached. Richie had just started his shift at the Capitol, cleaning outside the Aladdin as the last Jurassic Park showing of the day finished. He was sweeping up spilt popcorn and scrubbing soda stains on the floorboards, praying that the kids coming out of the cinema weren’t going to make more mess for him to deal with.

An achingly familiar laugh floated across the room and Richie’s head snapped up.

He hadn’t really seen Eddie at all these past few weeks, taking long routes between classes to avoid bumping into him and sitting on the opposite side of the room in calc, disregarding the student-set seating arrangement. And now, here he was, head thrown back laughing, eyes glistening with happiness, causing Richie’s stomach to flip and heart pound, echoing in his ears.

Eddie.

Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie—

Eddie was walking out of the cinema with someone Richie didn’t know. It wasn’t Bill or Ben or Mike or even Bev or Stan. It was some random boy Richie had never seen before in his life. Richie’s stomach twisted with envy, jaw clenching as he watched the guy talking, watched Eddie laughing at what he was saying in exactly the way he used to laugh at Richie’s jokes. This fucking guy (Richie finally recognised him from school, on Eddie’s relay team, he thought) was making Eddie shake with laughter, his words causing Eddie to clutch his stomach and squeeze his eyes shut. That bright, shining smile on Eddie’s face, put there by someone who was not Richie. Richie had always taken it upon himself to be the one to make Eddie laugh the most, even though Eddie always snapped at him and told him to shut up, Richie could still make him crack, have him doubled over in a fit of giggles. Now, someone else had replaced him.

When they’d gotten halfway across the room, Eddie stopped abruptly and shot his hand out to still his friend. He saw Richie, standing there and watching them. Their eyes locked and Eddie’s smile faltered, expression hardening as he set his jaw, but his eyes betrayed him, the shining happiness morphing into something sadder, maybe something regretful.

Richie wanted to rush forward and reach out, let his fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist and pull him into his arms. He ached to hold him again, to nuzzle into his soft wavy hair, to melt into his touch and fall asleep there. His body craved Eddie’s warmth, soft skin pressed against his when they hugged or even just held hands, missed the sound of Eddie’s heart beating in sync with his when they cuddled on Thursday nights. Fucking hell. If this was how Richie felt when he hadn’t even been dating Eddie, he was sure, now more than ever, that confessing his feelings was never going to be an option. If he told Eddie he loved him, whenever this fight was over, and Eddie rejected him, or even if by some miracle, Eddie felt the same, any fight or breakup would be a thousand times worse and Richie honestly did not know if he’d be able to survive that.

Eddie blinked, and then he was ushering his friend towards the door and out of the building. He closed the door behind him and just like that, he was gone, left without even looking back at Richie. Richie felt like his insides were being compressed, like Eddie had reached into his body and was crushing him from the inside out, and his legs gave in, back slumped against the wall as he sunk to the floor.

He didn’t know if he finished his shift, if he locked the Capitol doors when he left, if he grabbed his bag from the break room or how he was even driving when all he could hear and feel was his own heart thudding against his ribcage. It was only once a front door opened and Sandy was standing there with a nightgown wrapped around her that he realised where he’d gone.

“Richie? What are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”

“Does that offer still stand?” he blurted. “You know, what you said the other day?”

She considered him for a moment, looking at his hair, wild from running his hands through it so many times, taking in his all black uniform and parted lips and pleading eyes with pupils blown from subconsciously thinking about this the whole drive over. She must have found something truthful and worthy there because she inhaled sharply and stepped to the side.

“Yeah, it does.” Sandy’s teeth came to rest on her bottom lip as she held out her hand. “You coming in?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed. “Yeah, okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should add a tag #richie tozier’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. He’s a dumbass I’m sorry.
> 
> The play I’m referencing is called Fool For Love by Sam Shepard and actually does have a main character called Eddie.
> 
> Soooo whose side are you guys on? Is Eddie being too serious or is Richie being not serious enough? Lemme hear opinions!


	10. Maybe he had to take a chance here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 1993 - January 1994. Richie finds new friends. Eddie finally gets a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha are yall ready for more angst. pt2 of #richie tozier’s unhealthy coping mechanisms :’)

The steady decline of Richie’s mental stability really started when James Parker invited him to a Halloween party.

It was strange, Richie felt, because whenever the Losers were invited to a big party with half their fucking cohort, it’d been Bill or Mike who’d gotten them there, being on the football team and all, and Richie had mostly stuck around his friends anyway. Or when the theatre kids celebrated the closing of a show, he’d been surrounded by people he knew well and shared the stage with on several occasions, and those gatherings were far smaller. Most of the time, though, when Richie got drunk, it was solely with The Losers’ Club.

So, this party was going to be fucking wild.

Richie’s friends at the moment consisted of Stan, Beverly, Ben, Sandy and sort of Emily. He had enough people around him to fill the Losers’ Club sized hole in his chest that sometimes ached when Ben came to their table at lunchtime and started talking to Bev and Stan about what the others were up to, when Richie slipped his headphones on and cranked up the volume on his Walkman to drown out their conversation.

It was moments like that when Richie understood why his mother drank so much – it really did dull the heartache. Because the fact of the matter was this: Richie really fucking missed Eddie. And Bill and Mike, of course, because he missed having the whole gang together, but mostly Eddie, understandably. So, Richie’s plan was to go to this goddamn Halloween party and get so fucking drunk he wouldn’t recognise Eddie even if he were right in front of his face.

“You do realise how bad that will be for your liver?” Stan told him over the phone the night of the party, before Richie was to swing by his house to pick him up.

“You do realise I don’t give a flying fuck?”

“This is the reason I’m coming tonight, because someone has to look after your drunk ass pining and feeling sorry for itself.”

Richie huffed. “I am  _ not _ pining. I’m perfectly allowed to get drunk with my friends without it being about that  _ asshole _ that I don’t even care about anymore.”

“You aren’t fooling anyone, Richard.” Richie could hear the eye roll in his tone.

“I will uninvite you.”

“You’ve told me the address. I’ll just show up.”

“Fuck. Whatever, I’m leaving soon. Make sure you plug in your mom’s straightener now ‘cause fuck knows how long it’ll take to get hot.”

“Already done. And remember to bring the glasses and put your contacts in.”

“Got ‘em in my bag.” Richie grinned. “Look at us, takin’ care of each other. We’d make a damn cute couple, Stan The Man.”

“Shut up and get over here before I regret doing a duo costume with you.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

It was after nine by the time Stan had finished doing both of their hair, amidst Richie joking about them having a girls’ night, Stan threatening to burn Richie’s ears off, and Richie getting cuts on his fingers from picking out the glass from his old, broken glasses for Stan to wear. Richie adjusted his cap while Stan tied a flannel shirt around his waist, and then they stood in front of the mirror to admire themselves in full costume, side by side.

Stan, much to his own annoyance, was grinning. “Party on, Wayne.”

Richie beamed. “Party on, Garth.” He threw an arm around Stan’s shoulders, squeezing him against his side affectionately. “We ready to go?”

“Yes. Just let me grab my wallet.” Stan turned and left the bathroom, heading down the hall to his bedroom. “Do I need to bring anything else?” he called.

“A good mood!”

“Then I’m not coming!”

Richie threw his head back and laughed.

So far, his plan was working. He’d downed every drink put in front of him, not keeping track after the first six or seven, and he felt Stan hovering behind him, sometimes handing him a glass of water in between cups of punch and whisky. Eventually, Stan was ushered away by James when he and Tammy came over and dragged Richie into the other room to dance. Richie had to hand it to James for being so cool about his girlfriend’s ex hanging around them like this, but he  _ was _ friends with James first, way back at the beginning of junior year, so maybe James was more emotionally mature than he acted. James and Tammy were in some couple’s costume that Richie didn’t recognise because he was drunk off his face, but they seemed happy together, which was nice, he supposed.

Richie spun around, dazedly, not really keeping in time with the beat, his arms swaying around his body with as much coordination as a… baby giraffe. “Ugh, fuck  _ off _ , Eddie,” he grumbled under his breath, physically shaking his head as if that would make the thoughts fly away. He turned again and collided with two bodies with an  _ oof _ , blinking wearily until their faces came into focus.

Samantha and Emily.

Of fucking course.

He couldn’t catch a fucking break.

“Wayne’s World!” Emily squealed, pointing at him and giggling. Samantha was behind her, frowning at him. Glancing at the puffy dresses they were both wearing, he suspected they were supposed to be Disney princesses. Emily swayed forward, glazed eyes darting around his face randomly. She was probably as drunk as he was.

Emily was almost the last person he wanted to see right now. Seeing this girl he used-to-sort-of-maybe-still-did like just reminded him of his less than fulfilling night with Sandy last weekend. Not because he didn’t like Sandy or regretted being with her, but because he couldn’t get out of his own fucking head and be present in the moment, snapping out of his thoughts only when she’d rolled them over and pinned his wrists down by his head and told him to stop thinking so hard because she could  _ hear _ his brain. And not to say it wasn’t a fucking great night (because wow, it really was), but his head  _ hurt _ from thinking so hard all the time, which was why he’d been so eager to come to this party tonight – it was exactly what he needed to finally fucking relax.

Richie looked down at Emily. “You jus’ read that from m’ cap,” he pointed out.

Emily shook her head adamantly. “Nah, nah, I know this movie. I saw your frien’ Stanley with his… hair an’ glasses and I knew! Had t’ come find you, Rich Rich Richiiie. Let’s dance!”

Richie wasn’t cognitive enough to keep track of time, but it was at least an hour later when Stan found him again, trying to hand him another cup of water. Richie accepted it, not really paying attention as Stan wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him off the dancefloor, where only a few people remained, and back into the kitchen.

“‘s it time for shots?” Richie slurred, leaning all his weight against his friend’s side.

“No, it’s time for bed. You’re incredibly drunk and I think you’ve had enough.”

Richie shook his head, eyes fluttering shut. “Nah, ‘m fine, Eds.”

He heard a scoff. “Hey, I’m serious.” Warm hands cupped Richie’s cheeks and he managed to force his eyelids open, blinking several times until he could focus on the honey-brown eyes boring into his, framed by straightened dirty blonde hair. “You just called me Eddie. Hey.” Stan clicked his fingers in front of his face, effectively snapping him to attention. “You’ve made your point. You’re sad and you miss him and you want to get drunk to ignore your feelings, but you’ve reached your limit. I’m taking you to the bedroom and you’re going to sleep. We can go home in the morning.”

“Nooo, don’t wanna sleep. I was dancin’ with Eds… Ems… Em-Emily.  _ Fuck_.” Suddenly realising what he’d been saying, Richie felt, frustratingly, a whole lot more sober. “Sorry. Stan. Stanley. Listen, ’m sorry.”

“It’s okay if you miss him.”

“No ‘is not. He was a dick. I hate that I miss ‘im. Ugh, my life is a joke.  _ I’m _ a joke.”

“You have to be funny to be a joke.”

Richie snorted. “Stan The Man gets off a fuckin’... good s’mthin’. Okay, yeah. ‘is bedtime,” he conceded.

The next morning, after being abruptly woken by Stan opening the curtains in the bedroom they crashed in, Richie managed to drive them home, head throbbing through Stan’s recount of the end of the night (embarrassingly, involving Richie crying and mumbling Eddie’s name into Stan’s shoulder). When they pulled up to the Uris house, Richie reached across and grabbed Stan’s hand before he hopped out of the car.

“Thanks,” Richie mumbled. “For taking care of me. I-I don’t say it enough.”

A small smile crept up on Stan’s face. “It’s fine. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t kill yourself out of stupidity.”

“I’d be careful with that joke, Stanny.”

Stan’s smile dropped and he swallowed. “Right. We are going to talk about that one day.”

“Mm, no we’re not,” Richie sing-songed.

“Yes, we are.”

“Then we’re also gonna talk about  _ you  _ potentially being quee—”

Stan clapped his hands over his ears and scrambled out of the car. “La la la! I can’t hear you! Bye, Richie!”

Richie barrelled into Stan’s room a week later, tugging on his bed covers. “Come on, dude, get up! It’s nearly midday and you’re sleeping. Stop being so depressed. I’m bored. Let’s go do something.”

Stan’s bird's nest of hair popped out from beneath the doona, head turning to glare at Richie. “I got a B in that AP physics test,” he grumbled.

Richie’s jaw dropped. “You fucking what?”

“Ugh, don’t make me repeat myself. I’m already so ashamed.” Stan threw the covers off and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “And you have no right to call me depressed when you’ve been moping about Eddie for weeks.”

Richie scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “I resent that statement.”

“You resemble that statement. Now get lost, go find someone else to bother.”

The sentiment stung a little, but Richie held his tongue and complied, leaving Stan to wallow over his grades in peace. He ended up at Beverly’s and, despite seeing Ben’s car parked out the front of Linda’s apartment building, buzzed himself in anyway.

“Bev, Bev, Beverly! I know you’re in there. Come out and play!”

Linda’s fuzzy voice scratched through the intercom. “Bev’s a little busy, honey. They’ve built this elaborate fort in front of the TV and told me not to bother them. Sorry, Richie. Maybe come back tonight or tomorrow?”

Okay, sure.

This was fine. He’d find someone else to… bother.

On his way to Sandy’s house, Richie had to drive past Linda’s salon. He held his breath and kept his eyes trained on the road in front of him. But he was weak and he knew it, and when his eyes darted sideways to sneak a glance into the store, he saw both Eddie and Sandy inside. Eddie was at the front counter, laughing at something his other coworker was saying, and Richie could see Sandy’s blonde ponytail at the back of the store next to the hair washing stations. He didn’t know when she finished and was not about to wait around and risk Eddie seeing him.

Well, fuck everything.

If Richie ended up at Emily’s place once again, still not knowing how to deal with his emotions and letting himself fall back on the girl who probably still liked him and did not deserve the half-relationship in which he was stringing her along, no one needed to know or care but him.

Beverly apologised profusely when she stopped by to visit Richie at work that evening. He started making her a pizza to take away for her and Ben, who still had one more Alien film to watch in their marathon. Richie, still feeling slightly bitter, was almost tempted to spoil the end of the movie for them.

“Third one sucks,” he ended up saying. “Saw it at the cinema, would not recommend.”

“Well, we can’t just stop at two out of three,” Beverly replied. “But anyway, I came here to see how you were doing, not talk about my date day.”

Richie looked up from his ball of dough and wanted to shrug, because that was pretty much how he was doing. “I’m perfectly fine,” he said instead. “You know me, Bev. Mr Bounce Back. Ain’t nothin’ can keep the Trashmouth down.” He clapped his flour-covered hands, clicked and pointed two finger guns at her, throwing in a grin for good measure.

Beverly’s eyebrows creased, lips turned down in a slight frown. “Rich, it’s okay to not be okay.”

“Who says I’m not okay? Not me, no siree! See these pearly whites? I’m smilin’ away, as per usual.” He dropped his gaze to roll out the dough, but also so Bev couldn’t see the blatant lie by looking into his eyes. Eddie had told him many times how expressive his eyes were, particularly up close and especially without his glasses on. But Bev didn’t need to even  _ see  _ him to work out how he was actually feeling, and he sort of hated her for that. She leaned against the glass that separated his work station from customers, eyeing him like she knew exactly what was going through his head.

“Stan called me,” she said with a pointed look and Richie’s heart stuttered. “He told me to look after you. He wouldn’t say if something happened or not, but he seemed worried, which makes me worried. Richie, look at me.”

“What?” he snapped, head shooting up. “I told you I’m  _ fine_. Just drop it, please.”

Beverly flinched. She set her jaw and levelled his gaze. “Don’t lose your shit with us just because you’re angry with Eddie. We just—”

“For fuck’s sake, not everything has to do with him!” His coworker shushed him from the other end of the counter. Richie scowled, sliding the pizza base across the table, taking a deep breath before turning back to Bev. “I don’t want to talk about it. When I do,  _ if  _ I do… you’ll be the first person I call.”

She seemed satisfied enough with his answer, gave him a curt nod, said, “You better, Tozier,” and left to sit at a table. Even with Beverly mere feet away, Richie somehow felt alone again.

Richie was kind of losing his shit.

He already knew this, sort of, but it was one thing knowing he was doing something stupid, which was all the time, and another thing to be lying on a bed that wasn’t his own for the third night in a row, staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on everything that had led him up to this point and realising that his sanity was slowly disappearing.

The hollow ache in his chest was the first thing he was aware of every morning, how it ate away at his insides until he couldn’t take it anymore and looked to other sources to dull the pain. He was lonely. He’d pushed most of his friends away because he didn’t know how to process his feelings, didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, he had some things to apologise to Eddie for, and consequently had rendered himself emotionally inarticulate in favour of drowning in cigarette smoke, various forms of alcohol, and sex. Richie had spent more nights at Sandy’s house than his own in the past week. Sandy was good – she didn’t have any expectations of him. Whenever he’d show up at her door, they could spend the night smoking, fucking, watching television or just lying on the ground in her backyard, looking at the stars. It was like being in a relationship without having to feel things. Richie felt right at home with Sandy.

Sometimes he saw Emily, too. Sandy said she didn’t care because they weren’t dating. Out of all his friends (did he even have any of those anymore?), Emily was now the person he spoke to the most. They were back to making out at lunchtime and after school, and sometimes he wondered if she’d been kissing other boys, because she was getting very good at it. She blushed when he told her that, and his stomach swooped a little at the sight. Richie also wondered if she still had feelings for him as he’d suspected all those months ago or if she just liked kissing him. He wasn’t sure if he minded either way.

Now on friendly terms with Tammy and James, he sometimes found himself with them and Emily at a diner on his rare days off, or in a booth at Domino’s during his break – kind of like how Bill, Stan and Eddie used to visit him at work, except not like that at all because he loved those boys with all his heart and these friends were just filling the hole they’d left. Sometimes it felt like a double date, but no one referred to it like that, Emily never mentioned if she thought they were dating, so Richie kept his mouth shut on the subject. Sometimes he felt like she wasn’t mentioning it just to humour him, because sometimes the way she looked at him made his stomach flip pleasantly, but he was trying to ignore all those feelings, too.

It was a Thursday and he was at Emily’s place, having crept through the door after his shift at the Capitol and changed into a plain t-shirt because all his band ones seemed to be missing or in the steadily growing pile of unwashed clothes in his room. He was on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, letting his mind go blank for a few minutes. Thanksgiving break was approaching and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do without school to occupy himself day in and day out for a whole fucking week. Maybe he’d try to worm his way back into Stan’s life. Although, that would mean apologising for ignoring him and Richie didn’t feel like doing that right now. Richie didn’t feel like doing much of anything right now.

Emily reentered the room with cookies and Nutella and joined him on the bed, settling next to him with her back against the headboard, the sides of their thighs pressed together.

“You staying the night?” she asked, handing him the jar.

Richie shrugged. He’d stayed over before – once on the floor and once on her bed, on top of the covers and head at the foot of the bed. “I can if you want.”

“Yeah, but do  _ you _ want to?”

“Yeah.” Anything was better than being alone.

She put on Silence of the Lambs while they ate, Richie’s head resting on her shoulder. Towards the end of the movie, when Buffalo Bill’s cross-gendered creation was finally seen by the audience, Richie felt Emily’s eyes on him.

“What’s up?” he asked after a few minutes, keeping his voice down to not detract from the movie or wake her parents.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.”

Knowing how fucking irritating it felt when people tried to push him to talk, Richie stayed quiet until the end of the film, letting Emily take her time with whatever she was thinking about. The credits rolled and she finally turned to him, eyes cast down.

“I think I figured out why Samantha dislikes you so much.”

Although that was far from what he was expecting to come out of her mouth, Richie’s interest was instantly piqued. “There’s an actual reason? Here I thought she was fighting not to fall for my natural charm and dashing good looks.”

Emily gave him a small smile, but nibbled on her bottom lip nervously. “I don’t think that’s it at all. I think… quite the opposite, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-I think she might, um, like  _ me_.”

Richie blinked, taking a moment to understand what she was saying. “You mean… like-like you?”

Emily nodded.

“Oh,” he breathed. Emily didn’t seem disgusted or angry that her friend not only might be gay, but into her, but she hadn’t really said much yet. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Maybe the worst was yet to come.

“I—Most of our friends are sort of… popular, you know, cheerleaders or on the football team and the guys are really m-macho and masculine and I was worried they might think it’s, um, revolting or maybe even hot.” Richie wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “But then I remembered that Bowers used to call you and your friends those vile names and, you know, you’re really close with your friends and you hug them and stuff and I-I thought that maybe, I don’t know, you might understand?”

Richie’s heart plummeted, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. “I might understand?”

“I mean… god, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to say—I just mean, you’re not like most guys I know. Or even most people I know. You’re… kind. And open-minded. Not your typical teenage boy in Derry.”

Richie stared at her for a long moment. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, brows pinched like she was nervous. He didn’t know what to say, wasn’t even sure what she wanted him to say. But Emily barrelled on.

“I just wanted someone to talk to about this because I’ve never thought about having a friend who was a lesbian before and now that I think about it, it makes so much sense, especially why she doesn’t like you, because you and me… A-And I want to talk to her about it, but I don’t know how to even approach the idea.”

Richie swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He opened his mouth and closed it again. The room was silent, movie credits long since finished, television now black. He inhaled deeply through his nose, proceeding slowly, cautiously.

“How does it feel, knowing your best friend might be a lesbian and might have a crush on you?”

Emily frowned, cocked her head like he was asking the dumbest question in the world. “I don’t care who my friends are into, as long as they’re happy. And me… I don’t think it changes anything, we’re still going to be friends. Unless she gets weird about it, I’m still going to treat her the same. She’s still the same person and I still love her.”

Richie almost whimpered, heart beating rapidly as he soaked up this information, this reaction. Maybe not everyone in this town were bad people. Maybe if he told his friends, whomever he had left, even just Beverly and Ben, maybe they’d react like this. Stan was kind and accepting, Emily was obviously not opposed to the idea. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to consider. Richie had a lot to think about, but now wasn’t the time. Now, Emily was sitting back on her haunches, watching him, hoping for some comfort or advice from him.

He leaned back, settled into the pillows, and held his arms out. “C’mere.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile and she crawled over, tucking herself into his side. “So, do  _ you _ care if she’s gay? If she likes me?”

Richie almost barked out a laugh. “No, I don’t care. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I mean, she hates you because you like—uh, liked me?”

He tilted his head and glanced down at her, eyes soft. “I do like you,” he said honestly, and when she gave him a smile, one of those Emily smiles that warmed his insides, he initiated the kiss, this time not holding anything back.

Mr B told their drama class on the last day of the semester that the musical this year was Beauty and the Beast to give them the break to prepare. Audition times were posted on the noticeboard the day school resumed in January and Richie found himself cornered by Ben on his way to the cafeteria at lunch.

“You have to audition for Lumiere,” Ben said.

“Alright, mom.” Richie went to push past him.

“Eddie said so.”

“Well, if  _ Eddie _ said so then I guess I just have to, don’t I?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “We both know you’re going to, now that you know that.”

Richie rolled his eyes because, yes, he’d already been thinking about it and was now definitely going to since Eddie wanted it, because no matter how mad he might have been, Richie would almost always do whatever Eddie told him to do. He wasn’t even friends with the guy at the moment, hadn’t spoken to him in nearly four months, and he was still fucking whipped. He felt a little pathetic.

Mr B cast Richie as Lumiere and James as Cogsworth, saying they worked well together and would steal the show as this iconic duo. Along with Tammy, they picked up Emily on their way to McDonalds after their first read-through, throwing fries at each other and screeching musical theatre songs across the table, much to the annoyance of the other patrons.

Later in the week found Richie under the bleachers, smoking alone. He’d ditched third period again because he was still not in the mood to see Eddie, despite not actually being that angry with him anymore. He’d been a lot better at attending class, but sometimes skipped calc when he was having a particularly bad day, knowing he might very well cave and apologise (for something that wasn’t even his fault to begin with) and beg Eddie to take him back. The lunchtime bell sounded and within minutes, Beverly came walking over.

“Care to share?” she asked, taking a seat next to him.

Richie kept his eyes on the ground, fingers twitching with his cigarette. He hadn’t spoken to Bev all that much since she tried to confront him at work and he missed her. He’d been a pretty bad best friend for several months now, neglecting her to spend time planning and researching with Eddie or have unnecessary deep and meaningful conversations with Stan. Even recently, though she’d introduced him to Sandy, he’d left her behind, forgotten about her to fuck her friend. He wondered absently if Beverly knew about that. His gaze remained fixed on anything but Bev and passed the cigarette to her. There was a long moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever until she handed him the cigarette and spoke again.

“This must be the longest you’ve ever gone without talking.”

Richie couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped past his lips, taking a long drag and tilting his head back to blow smoke into the air above him. “You’d be surprised.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like you and I hang out anymore. You could be a whole new person and I’d never know.”

Richie frowned, chest tightening with guilt because she was correct and it was entirely his fault.

“Stan, Ben and I wait for you in the cafeteria,” Bev continued. “Sometimes we talk about heading outside to join the others, but we don’t want you to come to the table and find us gone. I can’t pretend I know what’s been going on, Rich, but we aren’t going to abandon you.”

“I never said you would.”

“Then why are you abandoning us?”

So that’s what this was about. Richie’s tongue swept across his lips and he swallowed. “I’m not,” he said, but it was weak even to his own ears.

Beverly scoffed. “Yes, you are. You hang around Emily and all them much more than you hang out with us. And Sandy? What’s even going on there?”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“Because this is exactly what you accused Eddie of doing! You got so mad at him for not spending time with the Losers and what exactly do you think you’re doing now? I know you miss him and it hurts, but distancing yourself from the rest of us is not going to fix anything and you know that.”

Richie stuck the cigarette in his mouth. Beverly was right. He hadn’t even noticed the similarities, but then he’d been ignoring every rational thought that came into his head recently so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t realised. Maybe Richie sort of understood Eddie’s reasoning now.

Still, he couldn’t admit that. “He’s the one who fucking started it.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” She snatched the smoke from between his lips and took a drag. “You need to apologise to Eddie. I don’t care if you think you did nothing wrong. The rest of us are suffering because you guys won’t talk to each other. It’s been  _ months _ , Richie. Just talk to him, please.”

He shook his head, shifting to face her. “You don’t get it, Bev.”

She butted the cigarette out on the dirt and flicked it away, hands coming up to the sides of his shoulders. Her eyes bored into his and he nearly shivered, feeling self conscious under her gaze. “Richie. I  _ do _ get it.”

Richie didn’t want to entertain the idea that she really did, no matter how genuine her eyes looked. There was no way she could know anything. Although he wouldn’t have put it past her to have been so eager to choose him over Eddie with the intention of having this conversation right from the start. Richie wondered if that had been her reasoning all along. Judging by her pointed stare, he suspected it might very well have been. How Beverly understood so much without him having to say anything, Richie had no idea. He gulped back the emotions threatening to burst out of his throat and held his breath for a long moment.

Beverly leaned impossibly closer, whispered, “You can do this. I promise, it’ll pay off.”

He kind of had no idea what she was talking about.

He also kind of knew exactly what she was trying to tell him.

Maybe Beverly was right.

Maybe Richie had to take a chance here.

* * *

Eddie was starting to feel bad about the way things were playing out. Even after Bill and Mike’s heart-warming decision to stick by his side, he was  _ still _ leaving them alone together more days than not. Eddie’s brain – and his entire life, really – was spiralling out of control and he was not quite sure what was happening and he didn’t like those feelings one bit.

He’d befriended this new guy, Matthew, who’d joined the track team this year. Matt moved to Derry from Seattle and Eddie would shamefully admit that he’d started talking to him back in September for the sole purpose of finding out what his hometown was like should he and Richie decide to move there. But now with Richie out of his life for the foreseeable future, Eddie had found that he actually liked hanging out with the new guy. Matt was the third runner on the relay team, which meant he handed the baton to Eddie to win them the race, and they always seemed to find each other in celebrations – though that was also partially to do with the fact that Ben wasn’t acting normal around Eddie anymore either since he fucking chose Richie’s stupid fucking side.

Fuck Richie. Eddie didn’t need him. Eddie needed to remember Beverly’s words – no single person should be his reason for being or doing better, for getting shit done, for wanting to live life to the fullest. Richie had made his opinion on Eddie’s decisions abundantly clear, forced their friends to choose sides and, like the literal child he was, huffed off without another word to Eddie. Some best friends they were.

All thoughts or hopes of Richie and him talking about their maybe-feelings and finally addressing whatever the fuck had been slowly developing between them all these years flew right out the window in that single moment. Eddie was fucking done with Richie.

(For now.)

He still wanted to get the fuck out of Derry, obviously, but he would learn to be patient, ignore the stubborn nagging in his chest to go over there and demand an apology or, god forbid, apologise himself. By the time June came, Richie would have come to his senses and begged for Eddie’s forgiveness and all would be well. Until then, though, Eddie blatantly refused to have anything to do with him.

When he did see them, Bill and Mike were fantastic friends, and even though Ben wasn’t talking to Eddie as much, he’d spend time with them on occasion, and when the four boys went to the Aladdin or hung out in Bill’s basement or Mike’s barn, it almost felt like Eddie was twelve years old again with his three best friends. It wasn’t quite the same, for obvious reasons, but sometimes Eddie could choose to ignore that feeling and just enjoy himself with whatever friends he had left when he wanted to indulge himself and actually be around them. Each time they hung out, it was harder for Eddie to justify cutting himself off from the Losers, because they always made him feel so  _ loved, _ and sometimes he’d forget why he wanted to be apart from them in the first place.  _ Protect your heart, _ one part of him said.  _ Treasure this time, _ said another. Eddie felt so conflicted sometimes. But it wasn’t worth his safety to consider keeping in touch with the Losers once he left Derry. If Sonia found out where he’d gone, she’d come after him, he knew that. Breaking all connections was the only way this would work. But maybe Eddie had also started to understand why Richie wanted to spend all his time with their friends. Still, he wasn’t going to apologise first.

Eddie and Matt were formally introduced in the third week of the year at their first track practice after Matt made the team, but they also shared gym class, so they’d met briefly on the first day of school. At practice, Matt had extended his hand, giving Eddie’s a firm grip and flashing him a charming smile, although Eddie had been sure that part was unintentional. They hit it off immediately, chatting about running and sports and working out and Eddie felt a little out of his depth, almost like he was a real macho kind of guy and not a loser with a stash of fanny packs in the back of his closet. Matt had explained that his haircut – short, trimmed and blonde – was to help him run better without worrying about hair falling into his eyes and Eddie had let out a nervous laugh, ran a hand through his own hair that he’d let grow out a little over summer, too preoccupied with his and Richie’s research to think about things like that. It was starting to curl around his ears, wavy all over, and Eddie decided immediately that he needed to get it cut.

Melissa offered to do it for him, because apparently Sandy was ignoring him now. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to upset her, but it wasn’t like they were really friends to begin with, so he stopped caring. He later figured out why when he arrived at the salon one Saturday morning and saw Sandy and Richie in his car with their lips smashed together. Eddie remembered when Richie used to drop him off at school and work like that, hating himself for feeling so fucking sentimental. He’d also seen Richie being pushed up against a door in the arts building at school, one time when he offered to pick up a sculpture for Ben, by none other than Emily Whiting (and he would never admit it, but his heart jolted a little seeing Richie being manhandled like that). Eddie wasn’t really sure what was going on there, either, but he did notice the hot jealousy in his chest and stomach became less intense every time he witnessed something like that, which was probably a good thing.

With his feelings for Richie slowly being ignored or possibly dissipating completely, Eddie allowed himself to admire the fucking Prince Charming that was Matthew Roberts. One of Eddie’s favourite things about his new friend was that he was actually funny, and not like the immature humour that Richie liked to dish out – no, this guy had Eddie doubled over in laughter more days than not. When Eddie had talked about wanting to see a new movie that’d just started showing at the Aladdin, Matt jumped at the chance, telling him he’d heard rave reviews from his friends back in Seattle, and Eddie very nearly blushed when Matt grinned at him and told him they could see the movie together.

Running into Richie after the film had sort of put a damper on Eddie’s mood, especially when Matt asked about him afterwards, but Eddie had brushed it off, said he’d explain another time, and Matt had let it go, just that easily, and they were back into normal conversations. Eddie liked that relaxed, easygoing nature; he felt it complemented how uptight he could be sometimes. At the end of their movie outing, Matt had driven Eddie home, lingering outside for a few moments, and the smile he gave Eddie as he bid him goodbye made his insides squirm in a way he’d only experienced a handful of times. And on top of all that, Matt sometimes talked about his ex, whom he never referenced by name or pronoun, which really made Eddie wonder if the movie actually had been a date, if Matt wanted to get a feel for Eddie’s behaviour to try to determine his sexuality, or if Eddie was just being hopeful.

Despite all the undeniably cute hangouts, the hours-long phone calls, the random bursts of conversation in the hallways at school, Matt did not once mention anything about a date, an ex-boyfriend, being gay, anything at all that could have tipped Eddie off. Maybe it was because Matt realised that Derry was not nearly as forward-thinking as Seattle, maybe he thought Eddie was just a really good friend, maybe Eddie was reading way too much into this whole thing. But he’d gotten Eddie a fucking Christmas present! It was an Elton John vinyl. Matt had explained he’d seen Eddie’s record player stashed in the corner of his room when he’d visited a couple of times and figured it could get some more use. Eddie did blush that time.

He hoped he was not making this out to be something it wasn’t.

He really couldn’t deal with losing another friend right now.

There was a noise at Eddie’s door, which was already ajar, and he looked up from his business notebook as Sonia pushed the door open and frowned at him, hands on her hips.

“Eddie bear,” she began, sickly sweet tone making Eddie’s stomach curl immediately, “What are you doing in here? You’ve had your door shut all evening and you did this yesterday and the day before, as well. Are you okay? Are you feeling ill? Let me check your forehead—”

She stepped into the room and Eddie barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m fine, Ma, just studying. I have a midterm coming up.”

Sonia pressed the back of her hand to his head anyway, tutting even though Eddie was obviously not sick and therefore not burning up at all. “It’s January, Eddie. I know you don’t have midterms in January.”

“My business teacher is running behind schedule. He’s always late like this.”

Sonia peered down at Eddie’s books splayed across his desk, as if she’d find some kind of incriminating evidence that he was not, in fact, studying for a belated exam. Which he was, but he’d also been reading through the college brochures that’d been handed out right before winter break and were now tucked away in a random spot in his textbook.

As if she could read his mind, his mom finally removed her hand from his forehead and stepped back to look down her nose at him. “Have you started working on your application for the University of Maine, Eddie?”

Eddie swallowed. “Not yet, Mommy. We just got given information packs the other day, so I’ve read through the requirements, but haven’t made a start on my essay just yet. I’ll do it very soon, right after this exam.” He didn’t like how easily the lies flowed out of his mouth around his mother, not even having to think about it after doing it for so long.

“Good. You didn’t pick up any information from other colleges, did you? There’ll be no need for any of that. You will get into UMaine easily. You’re a very smart boy, Eddie bear.”

That wasn’t what she’d been saying a few years ago when this conversation first came up, but Eddie just smiled and ignored the angry, burning sensation in his chest that made him want to slap his mother.

“Of course not, Ma. I’ll be applying to UMaine and UMaine only.”

Sonia’s lips curved up into a sly grin. “Good boy, Eddie.”

As soon as she left the room and he heard the squeak from downstairs as she squeezed herself into her armchair, Eddie bolted into the bathroom and slammed the toilet lid open, emptying his stomach into the bowl with a sob.

Not really feeling like studying anymore, when Eddie returned to his room, he packed up his things and slipped the college brochures out of his textbook, flopping back on his bed to look through them. He did take one from UMaine to leave out in the open in his room for whenever his mom came snooping around, but he tossed it to the floor now, not wanting to see that stupid blue M any longer.

Eddie had grabbed anything that said New York or California on it, not taking his time to actually look through what colleges he was picking up as to not risk any of his friends seeing what he was doing – Mike probably wouldn’t have said anything, but Bill could be nosey sometimes and Eddie wouldn’t have been able to come up with a lie for why he was grabbing brochures for Baruch College in Manhattan or California State University in Sacramento, LA and Long Beach. Eddie snorted when he realised he’d somehow managed to get booklets from fucking Stanford and Columbia, put them aside straight away, not even going to entertain that possibility. His heart clenched when he reached the brochure for NYU, eyes scanning through the list of schools and programs, lingering on Tisch for a moment, before shoving the whole pile under his pillow.

He left his room and stood at the top of the staircase, listening for signs of life from the living room. When he heard his mom’s snores over the sound of the television, Eddie crept downstairs, picked up the phone and dialled a now familiar number, walking backwards as far as the cord would let him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Eddie,” he whispered.

“Eddie,” Matt breathed, matching Eddie’s volume. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry, I know it’s late. I just…”  _ wanted to talk to you. _ He paused, realising how stupid and desperate that sounded. He had to be careful; he couldn’t assume Matt would be okay with him being gay, even if he seemed like a good person who maybe sometimes flirted with him. “I had a fight with my mom.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, man. Do you mind me asking what happened?”

Sonia snuffled loudly and shifted in her seat, chair squeaking under her weight. Eddie swallowed. “I—Yeah, just maybe not over the phone? I’m worried she might wake up.”

“‘Course, Ed. I’ve just got to pack up some stuff so could you make it to my place? I’ll start heading to yours if I’m done quickly.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Matt. See you soon.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Eddie heard his mother shifting in her seat again, meaning she was probably about to wake up. He tiptoed back upstairs and shut himself in his bedroom, grabbing a scarf and beanie from his drawer and throwing on a thick sweater. He pressed his ear to the door and cursed under his breath at the sound of footsteps downstairs. Sonia sometimes snacked before bed, so she’d be in his way for at least another twenty minutes.

Eddie considered his options.

He could wait for his mom to go to bed and apologise to Matt for being late, or… he could climb out his window.

It couldn’t be that hard, surely. Richie used to do it all the time. There were practically foot-holes in the tree from so many years climbing up and down it, and Richie was just about the clumsiest person he knew so if he could do it, Eddie should have no problem. He was stronger than Richie, too, so even if he did slip, he’d be able to hold himself up just fine.

Eddie shrugged on his coat, flicked off the light and opened the window, his face instantly assaulted by the biting cold wind outside. He took a deep breath, clutching to the windowpane, and moved one leg to straddle the window sill. It wasn’t that far of a drop and there was a fair bit of snow gathered below him, so it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he did fall. He kept a tight grip on the window and swung his other leg over, scooting across on the balls of his feet until he could reach out with one arm and grab the thick tree branch. Climbing down the tree was much easier, even with the prickle of snow falling on his face as he shook the leaves above him.

Feet safely on the ground and adrenaline flowing through him, Eddie exhaled, feeling quite proud of himself. Having conquered one icy deathtrap, he decided to walk to Matt’s house instead of ride, not trusting himself on the road in this weather. When he arrived, Matt was slipping through his front door in just as many thick layers of clothing as Eddie. Matt grinned when he turned and saw Eddie a few houses down, walking under the street lights.

“Hey!” Matt stepped close and Eddie’s heart stuttered when he thought he was going to hug him, but he just reached out with one hand and squeezed his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

Eddie gave an honest shrug. “Eh. Shall we walk? There’s a street in town that doesn’t have such bad snowfall where we can go.”

“Sounds perfect. Lead the way.”

Being a weeknight, there weren’t too many people around, even near Main Street. They walked at a leisurely pace, hands stuffed in their coat pockets, shoulders hunched around their necks. Snow was no longer falling, but the cold air still stung Eddie’s cheeks, nose undoubtedly bright red, until they reached their destination where the shop fronts and houses blocked a lot of the wind hitting their faces.

“So, what happened with your mom?” Matt asked. “I don’t wanna push you to talk about anything you don’t want—”

“No, it’s okay. I said I wanted to.” Eddie shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground. “She has this thing with wanting to control me and she’s been trying to guilt me into going to college in Maine so I don’t have to move out of home. She was just asking about applications and if I’d started my application essay and I… even though I know she’s full of shit, I still hate lying, but I really don’t want to go to UMaine. I want to go to a different fucking state and get as far away from her as possible.” They’d slowed to a stop during Eddie’s rant. He hadn’t meant to say that much, but the words just came tumbling out of his mouth as soon as he opened it. Perhaps he still had more pent up emotions relating to his mom than he’d realised.

Matt was silent for a while, and Eddie thought maybe he’d overstepped, said too much, made him uncomfortable. He opened his mouth again to apologise, but Matt stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, arms snaking around his shoulders, not too tight, but firm enough for Eddie to feel the body heat radiating through all their layers.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” Matt whispered beside his ear. “I don’t really  _ get _ it because my parents are pretty understanding and accept me for who I am and what I want to do, but I can’t even imagine what it’d be like for them to be so against me.” He pulled back and dipped his head slightly so their eyes were aligned. “I’m sorry that your mom sucks, Eddie.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it. I might even rebel and apply to other colleges, who knows?” He huffed out a humourless laugh, dropping his gaze back to their feet as they resumed walking. “I just hate being controlled. I hate being told what to do. That’s why—” Eddie stopped short, pressing his lips together. “Nevermind,” he mumbled.

Matt shot him a curious glance. “Why what?”

“You really don’t want to hear it. Just more people I’m fighting with.”

“My ears are open and my shoulder’s here if you want them.”

Eddie considered it for a few minutes, letting them walk in relative silence, only the faint sounds of cars from the main road reaching them. “My friend Richie. We used to be best friends, inseparable, basically, but we had this huge argument about… He was trying to tell me how to spend my time and what I should be doing and I-I just— I’ve had enough of being told what to do by my mom and to get it from  _ him? _ This person who’s supposed to be there and support me no matter what? I got so angry and said some really stupid shit, we both did, and we’ve haven’t talked since September and that’s the longest we’ve ever gone without talking in over ten years and I think I fucking miss him.”

Eddie’s throat caught around his breath as he exhaled deeply, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. After a few seconds, realising Matt hadn’t said anything, he snuck a glance to the side to gauge his reaction and found he’d stopped walking and was standing a few feet behind him. Eddie stopped and turned around, struggling to place the look Matt was giving him with his lips pressed together and his brows pinched.

Matt sucked in a breath and tilted his head. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?!” Eddie’s eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly, instinctively on the defence. “Like him? No. Of course not. Why would I like him? I mean, he was my friend so of course I liked him because we were friends but I don’t— I’m not like that, I don’t—”

“Eddie.” Matt stepped forward and took his hands. “Hey. Listen. You know, the ex I keep talking about… his name is Steve.”

Eddie sucked in a shaky breath, hands trembling slightly. “St-Steve?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m into guys, Eddie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know this town is a tad different from Seattle, but… It doesn’t make it any less okay. Okay?”

Eddie’s mouth wasn’t cooperating. He tried to open it, but his throat tightened, closing up around the words he wanted to say. A strange look flashed across Matt’s face and he frowned slightly, trying to drop Eddie’s hands and taking a small step backwards.

“Unless… fuck, unless I’ve read this whole thing wrong. Shit, I’m sorry, Eddie, I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m gay.”

Holy fucking shit.

He’d just said that out loud. To another person.

Eddie’s heart was thumping against his ribs. He felt like his insides were about to pour out of his body in protest at being confined when he was filled with so much emotion and  _ adrenaline_. It was so uplifting, telling another person a secret he’d held so close to himself for so many years, throwing the facts in the air and watching them soar, thrilled to be free from his head and out in the world.

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathed, one hand slapping over his mouth, squeezing his face just to prove this was real. “Oh my— wow, fuck, wow. I-I’ve never… I’m gay. I’m fucking gay, oh my fucking god.”

The grin on Matt’s face was nearly blinding, one of his hands still being gripped by Eddie’s. “Am I the first person you’ve told?”

Eddie nodded, his own face matching the brightness of Matt’s smile. “Yeah. Fuck. It’s so… freeing. To just… I’m gay. I can just say it. I can just say it!”

“I’m proud of you, Eddie,” Matt said earnestly, grin softening to a gentle smile.

“Thanks, I… Okay, yes, to answer your question, I used to like Richie. A long time ago. He and Bill were sort of my gay awakening when I was, what, fourteen years old?”

“Mine was Rob Lowe.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “Oh my god, are you serious?”

“Have you seen that dude in St. Elmo’s Fire? Wow.”

Eddie realised they were still holding hands and he blushed a little, still giggling thinking about tween Matt drooling over a celebrity. “I don’t like them anymore,” he said, feeling bold with the rush of coming out, and squeezed Matt’s hand. “Bill or Richie.”

“Really? I guess it’s hard to maintain feelings for someone you’re not talking to anymore.”

“Exactly. And besides, I… I think I like someone else.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly and Eddie saw him swallow, his eyes darting from Eddie’s eyes to his lips and back again.  _ Unless I’ve read this whole thing wrong, _ Matt had said, mirroring exactly the thoughts bouncing around in Eddie’s head all these months. The not-dates, the casual touches, the gentle smiles, and now… Matt was blatantly staring at Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s breath hitched again, heart hammering, and he decided in that instant to take charge and close the gap between them.

He stepped forward and pulled Matt towards him where their hands were still connected, leaning up on his toes and letting his eyes slip shut as he pressed their lips together.

Matt’s free hand snaked around Eddie’s waist to pull him closer, dropping his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, his soft gloves grazing his neck. Eddie shivered – some combination of the cold around them and the heat of Matt’s mouth when his lips parted and his tongue darted out to swipe along Eddie’s.

Eddie was kissing a boy.

Eddie Kaspbrak was standing in the street in the middle of winter, and there was a boy’s tongue in his mouth.

The reality of their surroundings finally caught up to his brain and he pulled back, separating their mouths but keeping their foreheads pressed together. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, their breath mingling together in the space between them, hot air brushing past their lips.

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispered.

“Yeah. Wow.”

“We shouldn’t do this out here.”

“Right.” Matt stepped back, hand lingering on Eddie’s cheek. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Eddie’s blush deepened. He reached up to take Matt’s hand and pulled him along back the way they came. “Shut up. Let’s go, I’ll drop you home.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss, too?”

“If you behave, perhaps.”

“Cross my heart,” Matt chuckled, miming the action over his chest.

Eddie grinned, letting go of his hand when they reached the end of the street and stealing a few sideways glances, feeling his cheeks grow warm when Matt smiled back at him. “Good.”

Convincing his overbearing mother that he’d started his UMaine application without her wanting to stick her nose in to proofread it was a little difficult, especially since he wasn’t actually writing it at all. Eddie had started some of the simpler applications, ones that didn’t require extensive essays or special recommendations, so he could rattle off enough points to satisfy her, make her think he’d actually written something and leave him alone most of the time. Tonight, thankfully, she’d retired to her room straight after dinner, leaving Eddie to watch TV on the couch – a rarity nowadays – absently flipping through both the channels and the college brochures he’d decided to keep.

On the chance that he and Richie did not patch things up before June, Eddie had chosen to start with the New York schools, thinking he’d feel more at home there than California. Thinking about running off to another state for college alone was a fucking terrifying thought, but one Eddie had started to contemplate when he’d noticed Richie continually skipping classes – according to his share of the Losers, it wasn’t just calculus Richie was ditching, so he was starting to wonder if Richie was going to graduate at all.

Eddie didn’t want to be fucking stuck in Derry forever, so he had to make a start on his applications or he’d miss the deadlines. But, the chances that they didn’t make up before graduation or Richie not graduating were slim, Eddie knew, and he honestly wasn’t even that mad at him anymore. Initially, sure, he’d wanted to fucking slap him and scream at him, because how dare Richie split up their friends and how dare he make such snide comments about Eddie’s choices. He had no fucking right. Yes, Eddie had said some pretty shocking things about Richie’s parents and his grades but it had to be said or Richie was going to flunk out of school and take them both down with him. Now, though, Eddie was also starting to consider making the first move and initiating a conversation with Richie. He assumed they’d both calmed down enough in all these months and could talk through it like normal people, he just didn’t want to be the one to say sorry first.

He turned the volume down on the television as his eyes rested on the UCLA brochure. Thinking about Richie in California still made Eddie smile. Thinking about Richie on stage in a play or on screen in a student-led short film, thinking about a cheering audience or the grin on Richie’s face when they laughed at his character’s lines, it almost made Eddie want to give up any ideas he had about New York and just go wherever Richie wanted. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a strange, irregular knocking coming from upstairs. Eddie turned towards the stairs curiously, staring at them like they would tell him what the noise was. When he heard it again, Eddie got up, tiptoed up to his bedroom, and then he realised what the sound was. His heart rate increased before he even had the chance to think about it, striding across his room to look out the window.

And there was Richie, bundled up with a scarf and beanie, street light bouncing off his face, illuminating one side while the other remained in the shadows. His head tilted up like he’d seen Eddie, but before Eddie could open the window, Richie started walking around to the front of the house, beckoning Eddie with one arm. Eddie stayed at the window for a moment, staring out into the empty yard, wondering what the fuck Richie was thinking showing up at his house like this. He’d expected to be cornered after school or outside the salon, not in the middle of the fucking night. Still, he couldn’t deny how his heart raced as he made his way downstairs, slight guilt settling in his stomach as his thoughts turned to Matt, his not-boyfriend-but-definitely-not-just-friend. They hadn’t really talked about it, and when Eddie opened the front door to see Richie up close for the first time in probably a month, feeling his heart stutter and his insides flip, he was starting to think he and Matt were never going to have that conversation. Richie hadn’t even opened his mouth yet and Eddie was falling all over again.

Richie wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixated on Eddie’s socked feet, poking out from his sweatpants. Richie shifted, moving his head and hunching his shoulders, eyes not straying from Eddie’s feet when he cleared his throat once and said, “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie’s heart soared at the nickname, nibbling on his bottom lip and ducking his head to try to catch Richie’s eye. One of Richie’s hands slipped out of his coat pocket – he was not wearing gloves – and came up to fiddle with his glasses. He was nervous, Eddie realised. Of course he was. He’d clearly come here to apologise, or at least talk about their fight. Eddie realised he was nervous, too. His stomach was still doing fucking flips and his heart rate hadn’t slowed down. He licked his lips.

“Hi, Rich,” he said, took another step outside to close the door so the cold air wouldn’t freeze the house.

Richie let out a deep sigh and finally met Eddie’s gaze. He pursed his lips in that annoying-cute way, then offered Eddie a soft, closed-mouth smile. Eddie smiled back instinctively, but then he schooled his expression and frowned, not wanting Richie to know he was already forgiven just by coming here.

Realising that Richie needed prompting to say anything else, Eddie took a deep breath and stepped closer again. “It’s pretty late, you know.”

“I know. I just… couldn’t wait.”

Eddie waited, giving him the floor. The hand that was out of Richie’s pocket started shaking, wrist twisting back and forth and fingers twitching like he wanted a cigarette. His hand closed in a tight fist and when Eddie looked back at his face, his eyes almost looked shiny.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Eds,” Richie blurted. “I’m sorry that got angry at you for wanting time away from the Losers because I get it now a-and I shouldn’t have called you selfish and said you were abandoning our friends because you weren’t, I know that now and I’m sorry. And I’m  _ really  _ fucking sorry for saying you couldn’t get into college. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.” Richie shook his head, brows pinching together as his eyes welled up with tears. “You’re the smartest fuckin’ person I know, much smarter than me in all the ways that matter. And for making our friends choose between us and causing this fucking rift in the group and—and for saying I’m carrying all the financial weight and for being a dick and skipping class and not taking school seriously because you were right about that too because I got a fucking B minus on my English thing and if you’d been there to help me then i-it— it would have been fine but you weren’t because I got shitty with you and  _ fuck_, Eds, I miss you so much and I don’t wanna fight with you ever again.” Richie surged forward and threw his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, pressing his face into his neck and cupping the back of his head with his hand. “’m sorry, ’m sorry, please forgive me, Eds, ‘m sorry,” Richie mumbled against him, sniffling wet and shaky and holding on so tightly it almost hurt.

Eddie didn’t even notice Richie’s glasses pressing into his skin, didn’t even care that his sweater was getting drenched with Richie’s tears. He hugged him tightly, one of his hands sliding up Richie’s back to run his fingers through his hair, knowing how much it soothed him, while the other rubbed circles between his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, Eds, I’m s—”

“Shh, it’s okay, Rich. I forgive you. We’re okay. And I’m sorry for always getting on your case about school, although I’m glad you’ve realised how important it is. I know we shouldn’t have made our friends pick sides and all that, and it’s as much my fault as yours, Rich, so you don’t need to blame yourself for everything. I need to apologise to them, too.” Richie’s body shook in his arms, his quiet sobs a stabbing pain through Eddie’s chest. “Richie, Richie, please don’t cry, I— fuck, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“‘S not okay, Eds.”

“Yes, it is. Hey, hey, c’mere.” Eddie tried to step back but Richie held on impossibly tighter.

“No, don’t leave me. Please,” Richie whispered.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and a tear slipped out. He let out a shaky breath, praying that Richie couldn’t feel his heart pounding, couldn’t tell how affected, how  _ hurt _ he was seeing him like this. Even when Eddie had made Richie cry during one of their fights in the summer, it hadn’t hurt this badly, hadn’t made him feel like his heart was collapsing in on itself.

“I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s been… five months. But I promise I won’t abandon you, too, Rich. I-I’m sorry for everything I said, I forgive you for everything you said.” Eddie sniffled and tried to pull back again, tapping Richie’s shoulder lightly. “C’mon, Rich, it’s cold.”

Richie mumbled something against Eddie’s neck, sounded like a protest, but he let go and moved back, looking openly at Eddie with red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. “Nooo, why’re you crying, Eds?” Richie brought a hand back up to hold Eddie’s face, thumb swiping across his cheek, mumbling so quietly Eddie could barely hear him. “Makes me sad when you cry.”

Richie’s face was so close, Eddie could count all his freckles, could drag his fingers across his skin and make constellations from them. Richie sniffled, the hand not on Eddie’s face coming up to push his glasses onto his head and wipe his eyes. Seeing Richie’s eyes unobstructed and up close was always a breathtaking experience. Eddie brought his own hand up and placed it on top of Richie’s on his face, letting his fingers slot between his.

Richie blinked a few times. “Eddie,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I...”

Eddie’s breath hitched when Richie’s eyes dropped to his mouth for a second and then back up to his eyes, and Eddie honestly thought for a moment that Richie was going to kiss him. His eyelids fluttered a little in anticipation, heartbeat echoing in his ears, but then Richie dropped his hand and stepped back out of Eddie’s space.

“You’re right, it’s cold, let’s go inside.”

Eddie’s entire body deflated, releasing a soft sigh, and he nodded, turning to open the door and lead them to his room. He ducked into the living room to switch off the TV and turn off all the lights in the house while Richie went upstairs, then taking another detour to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he got to the bedroom, he found Richie already wrapped up in blankets, coat and beanie discarded over the back of the chair, glasses on the nightstand, waiting for Eddie to join him. Eddie stripped off his outer layers and folded them, placed them on his dresser, and switched off the lamp when he slid into the bed next to Richie.

Richie was lying on his back, his hands still shaking a little, probably from the cold, so Eddie took them in his, rubbing his fingers back and forth to warm him up. Richie’s eyes glanced to the side to lock with Eddie’s, his tongue darted out across his lips and then he was turning his body, facing away from Eddie and bringing one of Eddie’s arms with him. Eddie quickly realised what he was doing and scooted himself around to make it easier to drape his arm across Richie’s side and spoon him.

This wasn’t completely new; they’d cuddled in bed before, but usually one of them was on their back and the other tucked into their side. Even when they did end up spooning, it was usually because they moved in their sleep to curl against each other, and more often than not, Eddie ended up in Richie’s arms, not the other way around. But, in a way, tonight felt completely different. There had been no jokes, no teasing, no poking or arguing or stupid food nicknames. It was all sweet and forgiving, so open and honest and letting themselves be vulnerable around each other. If Eddie had ever thought he’d be able to leave Derry without Richie, if he’d ever thought he and Matt could stand a chance against his relationship with Richie, no matter how confusing and frustrating it was, he’d only been lying to himself.

As Eddie drifted off to sleep, arms full of tall, lanky idiot with a heart too big and a mouth too loud, he knew there was no coming back from this. His heart was all Richie’s and always had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry long author's note ahead)
> 
> GUIZE my brain has been going wild with random inspiration lately and I've started writing another fic oops. it's gonna be like a long oneshot tho, nothing like this monstrosity (which, along with the extra pre-written chapters, is 106k words what the fuck is wrong with me). it'll be almost entirely fluffy and smutty, I promise, none of this sad bullshit. I'm mentioning this to hold myself accountable bc I want to post this other fic once part 1 of this one is done, to give myself a little bit of a break cause I haven't been too happy with how some of the future scenes/chapters are coming out :(
> 
> aNYway I'm sorry for always having Richie crying. he's an emotional soul, deep down, esp for all things Eddie related.
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr pls @bowtiescarves <3


	11. Congratulations, Losers, we made it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February - June 1994. Richie and Eddie catch a break and there’s love and tears all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS there’s a surprise in this chapter :))))) also unabashed borrowing of movie quotes.
> 
> Also ME? Posting at 10pm instead of 2am????? Truly never before seen footage of a Wild Jazzy emerging from her cave at odd hours of the day :^)

Richie could hardly believe it was February already. He and Eddie would be fucking out of here in less than five months and it almost didn’t seem real. Soon enough, they’d be receiving college letters and looking at rental properties and holy shit, it was insane.

He’d just returned home from BATB rehearsal and opened his mail to find his latest bank statement, tossing the rest of the envelopes on the kitchen counter for whenever his parents came home. He glanced at the numbers on the paper, doing some quick calculations in his head. If Eddie had even half of this amount saved up, they would be well on their way to affording a decent place for a few months, even if they couldn’t find jobs straight away. He took his mail upstairs and dropped his backpack on the floor, sitting at his desk to read through the rest of it.

Richie noticed the pile of college brochures Eddie had given him. They’d just submitted the majority of their applications in the last couple of weeks, sent them off to schools all across New York and California as planned. His eyes landed on the brochures for Stanford and Columbia, heart rate picking up slightly. He hadn’t told Eddie that he’d applied to any Ivy League or select schools – he wasn’t actually intending to go to them, he just wanted to see if he could get in. It was highly unlikely, given the shocking state of Derry High’s educational outcomes, but Richie was curious and wanted to feel proud of himself, so he’d sent off applications anyway. If he got in or not, Eddie would never have to know, because Richie was not going to ditch him for anything, not even Stanford University.

Part of Richie had only decided to apply to colleges because he knew it would appease Eddie and he wanted him to be happy. Of course, he did find the idea of learning how to improve his performing appealing and Eddie had made a rather good point about having extra shows under his belt when it came time to audition for paid work. But another, self-hating part of Richie was worried he wouldn’t be good enough for the hectic stress that was university life. He was bad enough at dealing with high school stress as it was, and college was only going to be worse. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Eddie he wasn’t cut out for college, but Eddie had insisted, and Richie couldn’t really say no to him.

He was also worried about being able to afford their apartment and pay bills on time if they couldn’t land themselves decent jobs, because once the safety blanket that was Richie’s current bank balance ran out, picking up extra shifts wherever they were working would only be a possibility if they didn’t have classes that day or weren’t swamped with assignments. Richie was not about to let Eddie’s college education go to waste because they couldn’t afford their rent, so he’d decided, even before they’d sent off any applications, if they were seriously short on money at any point, Richie would be the one to drop out of school and get a full-time job. He would do that for Eddie. He would probably do anything for Eddie.

After Richie and Eddie had made up, as the weeks went by, the closer it got to graduation, the more often The Loser’s Club found themselves at one of their houses or down in the clubhouse again, treasuring their remaining time together. Even Eddie had conceded and was spending time with everyone, much to all of their delight. He’d apologised to them for his behaviour and Richie saw Ben shed a few tears, and everything felt like it was back to normal again. They still had their own time, of course. Richie still saw Sandy occasionally, Bev and Ben still went out on dates, Stan and Bill and Mike still spent time together, and Eddie was still hanging out with that _guy_ (he had a name now, Richie knew, _Matthew_ , but didn’t care to use it). Richie didn’t even know him and he hated him for taking away his Eddie Spaghetti, making him laugh until he cried because that was Richie’s job, goddamnit. He also knew he had no reason to feel so fucking jealous. Eddie was allowed to have friends outside the Losers, god knew Richie did. There was just something about him. They stood too close to only have known each other for half a year. That was the kind of closeness Eddie shared with Richie, not this fucking new guy. He complained about it to Stan, who assured him that Eddie still considered Richie his best friend and gave him this _look_ that seemed to mean something Richie hadn’t allowed himself to think about since prom.

Speaking of, the Losers decided to skip senior prom this year, which Richie was especially thankful for, given last year’s shenanigans, and spent that night at Mike’s barn getting drunk, all taking turns to dance with each other, switching the tape in the stereo every few minutes to all have their favourite songs played. Richie was careful not to slow dance with Eddie, nor let him try to adjust his clothing again. He’d definitely learned his lesson and besides, jumping around and screaming the lyrics to Holding Out For A Hero while clutching Eddie’s hands was just as fun and far less stressful.

It was the last day before Richie’s hectic week of nightly performances, with Mr B having pushed back opening night to the first week of March this year, insisting on perfection (and Richie had to admit, the show was looking pretty fucking good). Richie’s birthday was at the end of the week, and all he wanted to do was spend the entire day with his friends. He’d tried to convince them to organise a series of activities to take up the whole day so he didn’t have to be at home by himself, but wasn’t sure if they’d actually planned anything or they were all going to sit around in his living room and get drunk together, but he insisted on no presents since they were so outlandish with his surprise party last year.

When he arrived at the clubhouse, he was shocked to see Mike in the hammock already, shot him a very displeased expression and plopped down on the ratty couch next to Bill and Eddie, who were arguing over what cassette tape to put on. Richie leaned over Bill and poked Eddie’s arm, nodding in gesture to Mike, and the two of them abandoned Bill to go and roll Mike out of the hammock and onto the floor. He yelped, scolding them half-heartedly, Beverly and Ben snickering from where they were sitting on a picnic rug on the floor. Mike went over to them with a huff, flipping Richie and Eddie off in the process. Richie shoved Eddie and clambered into the hammock, stretching his arms above his head to take up as much space as possible.

“I will not hesitate to knee you in the gut if you don’t move,” Eddie snapped.

Richie grinned and gave a shrug. “As long as you don’t hurt my nuts, it’s fine. Can’t deprive the world of little Toziers, now can I?”

“Please, the world is begging you to do exactly that, Rich,” Bev piped up and Eddie sniggered.

“Beverly! You betray me, babe. I’m truly hurt.” Richie frowned, looking around the clubhouse as Eddie squirmed his way into the hammock, not actually kneeing Richie in the stomach or balls, thankfully. “Where the fuck is Stanley?”

Bill got up from the couch to join the others on the rug. “He’s working on an applicat-sh-tion for one of the I-I-Ivy Leagues. Deadline’s next week. He sssaid he might make it over la-later.”

Richie tutted. “Can’t believe it. Stan The Man, the baby of the group, off to fucking Harvard.”

“He worked his ass off to get into our grade and keep his spot there,” Eddie said, smacking Richie’s leg lightly. “He deserves to go to fucking Harvard.”

“I th-th-think it’s Pennsylvania, actually. Finance or ac-c-ounting, something like that.”

“Didn’t he already get accepted somewhere in December for early decision?” Bev asked.

“Early action,” Eddie corrected. “Means he can still reject the offer before the normal deadline like the rest of us. But yes, he did get accepted into… Bentley? Some really good school. Fuckin’ math genius.”

“Hey!” Richie said. “I thought I was the math genius here, Spaghetti Head.”

“No, you’re the idiot here, Richie.”

“I could get into an Ivy League if I wanted.”

Bev snorted. “Sure thing, Tozier.”

Richie gawked. “You guys still think I’m really stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not, Richie,” Ben said. Sweet, sweet Ben.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “Not _really_ stupid.”

Ben swatted his hand in Eddie’s direction and continued, “Sometimes you just don’t apply yourself and I think – we all think – you could do so much better if you put in a little more effort.”

“Fuck y’all very much. Eds, tell ‘em how much I’ve improved this year.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Eddie scoffed.

Bev chuckled, raising her eyebrows. “You just don’t want Richie to think you actually like him.”

“Yeah, I don’t, I fucking hate him.”

“Lies and slander, Eds. Lies and slander.”

“How come you know so much about college acceptance stuff, Eddie?” Mike asked. “I thought you said you only applied to UMaine?”

Richie saw Eddie swallow. “I did. I guess I just… did a lot of research… in case I changed my mind, o-or something.”

Lying to their friends also became harder the closer they got to graduation, knowing that in just a few months, they’d be gone, without an explanation, with no way of being contacted, and weren’t going to see them for months, years, if ever again. Maybe Richie could convince Eddie, once they’d settled in wherever they ended up, to give some of the Losers a call, even from a payphone, just to let them know they were okay. They wanted to leave this shitty town, yes, but they didn’t have to give up the people they loved. Surely Eddie would understand that.

Beauty and the Beast was Richie’s best show yet. The audience fucking lost their shit at his fantastic (not too shabby) French accent, his banter with James as Cogsworth, and his stupid fumbling around the stage during Be Our Guest, flirting with Babbette and Belle all while trying not to knock the actors’ cutlery costumes off their heads with his ridiculous candle arms. His biceps did ache after every performance, having to keep his arms up at right angles for so long, but the Losers all came to closing night and stood up and cheered loudly during the bows, and Richie heard Eddie’s screaming above it all, shouting his name and waving his arms excitedly, and that made his sore muscles completely worthwhile.

When Richie came out after the show to see his friends, Eddie ran forward and threw his arms around his neck. Richie stumbled backwards, a little shocked, heart beating rapidly and knees nearly giving out when Eddie leaned in and mumbled into his ear.

“You were amazing up there, Richie. I’m so proud of you.”

Then Stan stepped forward to embrace him, and what he hissed in Richie’s ear made him blush even more.

“Try to keep it in your pants, Tozier. It’s incredibly obvious how you’re wearing your fucking heart on your sleeve.”

“Roger that, Staniel,” Richie whispered back.

By the time he got home after the afterparty, having decided to not drink too much and leave at a reasonable hour because Emily was there and he’d started feeling guilty for how he treated her and how he was about to leave in a few months without giving her any closure, Richie expected to stumble through the front door to find an empty, quiet house, maybe jerk off before bed but more likely crash the moment his head hit the pillow. It was his birthday tomorrow, but all Richie wanted to do was sleep. He didn’t care that he was going to be eighteen, he was tired from a week of performances and was not expecting to see his mother sitting in the lounge room with the lamp on, reading glasses perched on her nose.

“Mom?” He squinted into the room, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Richie glanced at the clock on the wall. “What the fuck are you doing up at midnight?”

Maggie put her book down and peered over the top of her glasses, eyed her son with a disapproving stare. “Watch your mouth, Richard.” He scoffed. She slipped her glasses off and folded her hands across her lap. “Arlene Hanscom came into the store today. Said something about her son being stage manager for the school musical, and was rather shocked that I had no idea about such a musical, because my son was playing a lead character and was kind of a crowd favourite.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “And? What, you’re annoyed I didn’t tell you? Like you’d care or something?”

“Richie,” Maggie said, “Of course I care. Haven’t I been proving that to you all this time?”

“And by that, you mean for barely one fucking year. Just ‘cause you cook dinner sometimes and give me presents doesn’t magically make the last… what— seven, eight years disappear. You sure ain’t winning any Mother of the Year awards, Mags.”

“Richie, I’m _trying_ , baby. You know it’s been difficult for me, with your father.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Wentworth! You didn’t have to take your shit out on me!” Richie threw his hands out to the side, exasperated. “I was ten years old and all of a sudden it felt like my goddamn mother didn’t love me anymore.” This conversation had escalated so fucking quickly, Richie’s exhaustion getting to him, his breath hitching and eyes welling up with tears as he choked out, “Why don’t you love me anymore, Mom?”

Maggie suddenly stood up and crossed the room, wrapping Richie up in a hug. He flinched, body stiffened, arms trapped by his sides as he closed his eyes, jaw clenching. His fingers twitched, itching to reciprocate, feeling his tears fall into her hair. _Don’t give in. Don’t give in._

“I will always love you, baby. Even if I don’t know how to show it anymore.” Maggie sniffled and he felt a wet patch growing on his shirt where her face was pressed. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty mother. You don’t deserve that. You deserve the world.”

Richie let out a shaky, humourless laugh. “No,” he said, balling his hands into fists, fingernails digging into his palms. “I don’t deserve the world. I don’t _want_ the world.” He squirmed, shrugging her off and stepping backwards. “I just want a mom who acts like a mom and loves her kid. You haven’t been that mom for years, Maggie, and a few small, random acts of kindness aren’t going to change that. It’s too late now; I am _done_ with your bullshit.”

He turned to retreat to his room when she called out to him again.

“Richie?”

He stopped, not turning around. “What?”

There was a pause, and when she spoke again, it was a whisper. “Happy birthday, baby.”

He took a moment to breathe deeply, calming his fluttering chest, tears finally stopping. “No, it’s not. It hasn’t been a happy day for a long time. Not because of you, anyway.”

And upstairs he went.

Richie hated crying himself to sleep, had tossed and turned all night, so the last thing he wanted to do when he was woken was answering the door to whoever was so aggressively knocking at such an ungodly hour of the afternoon. It was Beverly, and she handed him a joint, so he supposed he could forgive her. He hadn’t snuck a look in the mirror when he’d gotten up, so if his eyes were swollen from all the fucking crying, Bev didn’t say anything. He loved her for that.

“C’mon, Tozier, we’ve got shit to do,” she said, pushing him back into the house and dragging him upstairs to his room. She opened the window and stood him in front of it.

“What, no birthday wishes? And what are you talking about?” Richie took a drag and let Beverly rifle through his closet.

She threw a striped sweater and a pair of jeans at him. “This was your goddamn idea so you’re going to get dressed and come with me.”

“Bossy.”

“Yes. Get a move on.”

“Alright, alright. You gonna watch me change, Marsh?”

“I’d rather not go blind, thanks. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

The first place Beverly took him was to the arcade where they met up with Bill and Ben. Bill gave Richie a bunch of arcade tokens and challenged him to several different games while Bev bought them a round of milkshakes and Ben gave Richie a Best Of Queen album. After Richie wildly beat Bill at every game they played, the four of them hopped in Ben’s car and put on the new music, drove to Mike’s place where Stan and Mike were waiting. Mike gave him a new wallet, which was greatly appreciated because his had at least six holes in it, and Stan slipped a Hawaiian flower necklace over his head and thrust a pair of dumb, multicoloured spotted socks into his hands. Richie was a little annoyed that they’d all bought him stuff anyway, but it was small enough that he couldn’t complain. Mike dragged him into the kitchen to find a tray with seven large cupcakes and a few bowls of various coloured frosting that he and Stan had spent the morning making. The six of them decorated the cupcakes, the seventh one also done by Richie, on which he piped ‘Eds’.

“I couldn’t fit a plate of spaghetti on this tiny ass cake,” Richie explained and everyone but Ben rolled their eyes.

Beverly packed all the cupcakes into a large container and then opened the back door to lead the group outside, around the barn and up a hill, Richie talking Stan’s ear off until they came to a small clearing surrounded by trees. Right in the centre was Eddie, standing by a stack of picnic rugs with a basket in each hand. Richie grinned and ran forward, abandoning his conversation with Stan to charge at Eddie who placed the baskets down right before Richie swept him off his feet and whirled him around, basking in his laughter.

They all settled on the pile of rugs separating them from the damp grass, and Eddie opened the picnic baskets to reveal toasted sandwiches wrapped in foil, plastic cups and two bottles of wine. Richie ended up sitting between Eddie and Beverly with Eddie leaning into his side.

“I know you said no presents, but shut up and take this,” Eddie said, passing him a wrapped gift. Richie shook his head but he was grinning, downed his drink and tore open the paper to reveal a polaroid camera. He lifted it and snapped a picture of Eddie immediately. “What the hell was that for?”

“Gotta have your adorable face memorialised for all time, Eddie my love.” He excepted to be told to fuck off, but the gentle smile Eddie gave him was _so_ much better.

Once the food was demolished and the wine was mostly gone, they broke off into quiet conversations. Eddie’s head was resting against Richie’s shoulder now while Richie and Bev looked through the songs on the Queen album, discussing their favourites. The other four were deep in conversation on the other side of the rug and when Eddie sniffled and his body fell into Richie’s lap, Bev snickered, taking off her scarf and tucking it under Eddie’s head.

“Sleep, honey,” she cooed.

“‘M not tired.”

Richie ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Yes you are, Eds. You’ve been busy gettin’ this stuff ready all day and you’ve had two glasses of wine. It’s sleepy time for the little Spaghetti.”

“Shuddup, Richie, ‘m not that little,” Eddie slurred, but he was nuzzling into Richie’s hand and sure enough, had fallen asleep within a few minutes.

Beverly was smiling softly at the two of them. Richie looked up and caught her eye, and said in his best German accent, “Vat ze fuck is zat face for?”

She ignored his question completely and put her cup down to light a cigarette. “What did you say when you guys made up?” she asked, voice quiet.

Richie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I apologised for the hurtful things I said, threw myself at his feet and begged for forgiveness.”

“Alright, but what did you actually say?”

“What was I supposed to say? We both said sorry and that was about it.”

Bev raised an eyebrow. “Rich, we talked about this.”

“I haf no idea vat you’re referencing,” he slipped back into the accent, wishing this conversation was over already.

Bev sighed and picked up her cup again. “You know exactly what I’m referencing. You and Eddie—”

“Bev, stop,” Richie hissed, voice lowering to a whisper. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now, not with him and everyone else right here.” He didn’t need to confirm or deny anything; Beverly knew him too well. He momentarily considered taking her away from the group and confessing to everything – being… bisexual, being in love with Eddie, their plans to run away and go to college together, the whole shebang. Beverly had probably already figured out most of it already anyway. Maybe she’d respond like Stan, or even like Emily, but he couldn’t know for sure. She could be talking about something else entirely. So he kept his mouth shut and hoped she’d drop the conversation and never bring it up again because he didn’t want to face that fact that maybe his friends wouldn’t accept him. Ignorance was bliss and all that.

He looked at her with pleading eyes, brows pinched, and she seemed to get the message. Richie let out a deep breath, turning his attention back to the sleeping boy in his lap, unable to stop the fond smile that crept onto his face, fingers still brushing through Eddie’s hair gently. He felt Beverly’s hand on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze, before she crawled over to the others and joined in their conversation, leaving Richie and Eddie alone, just how they liked to be.

By the end of the month, everyone had received at least a few letters from the colleges to which they’d applied. Richie and Eddie had sent applications to six schools in California and seven in New York, plus Richie’s to Columbia, so when Richie sifted through the mail to find his fourteenth and last college letter in the pile, his heart started beating rapidly in his chest and he swallowed. He hadn’t been looking too closely at which letters were thin and thick, waiting for all of his and Eddie’s responses to come so they could open them together. This one felt pretty weighty, but he didn’t glance at the sender, ran straight inside and picked up the phone to dial Eddie’s number.

“Hello, Kaspbrak residence, Sonia speaking.”

“Mrs K! It’s a pleasure to hear from you, my love, but is dear old Eddie around, by chance?”

“Oh. Richard. Yes, he is, but he’s not allowed out of the house right now. He’s sick and needs to get back to bed, so make it quick.”

“Of course, I’m always super quick. You should know, Mrs K! In and out in a flash!”

He giggled to himself at Sonia’s disgusted groan, heart rate picking up again when Eddie’s voice came through the line.

“Rich,” Eddie breathed. “Did you get it, too?”

“Yeah, I got it. Sounds like you’re on lockdown, though. How ever will I make it through the treacherous Kaspbrak fortress to save the princess from her evil mother, Jabba The Hutt?” Eddie’s laughter was like music to his ears and Richie grinned, wide and proud. “Never fear, Eddie my dear! For I, Prince Tozier-Charming, will come to your rescue. Meet me at your window at oh-nine-hundred hours and be prepared to let down your hair for your one true love!”

“You are utterly ridiculous. Just shut up and get over here, asshole.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Richie hung up and bolted out the door, scrambled into his car and tried his very best not to speed or run any red lights on his way to Eddie’s.

When he squirmed through the window and his glasses fell off, he simply stuck his head forward and let Eddie slip them back on, giddy grins on both of their faces. Richie pulled the pile of envelopes from his backpack and placed the stack next to Eddie’s on the bed. They settled, cross-legged next to each other.

“So,” Richie said after a few moments of just staring at the piles in front of them, “How do you wanna do this?”

“I guess we just sort them into schools and open each pair at the same time.”

Richie nodded and picked up his first letter. “UCLA.”

“Berkeley.”

“NYU.”

“Pace.”

“Cal State.”

“USC.”

“Georgetown.”

“What’s this?” Eddie asked, grabbing one of Richie’s envelopes. He gawked, jaw dropping. “Columbia? Richie, holy shit, this one is thick. Since when did you apply to Columbia?”

“Oh, I, uh, I’m not going there, I just… wanted to see if I could get in.”

Eddie placed a hand on top of his. “Rich, if you got into a fucking Ivy League school, you should go.”

“No, I’m not leaving you, Eds.” Richie shook his head adamantly.

“It’s in Manhattan. Almost all these New York schools are in Manhattan. You could absolutely go and I’ll choose another New York school and it’ll be completely fine.”

“Let’s just open these ones first, please?”

Eddie pursed his lips, but nodded. They picked up the UCLA letters and opened them, both pulling out a stack of folded papers.

“ _Dear Mr Kaspbrak. Congra_ — Oh my god, Rich. _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for admission to the University of California Los Angeles for the fall 1994 semester._ ”

Richie looked up from his letter. “I got a scholarship,” he breathed.

“Really?! Richie, that’s amazing!” Eddie lunged forward and threw his arms around Richie’s neck. “See, I told you, you’re smart, Rich. I knew you could get in.” He let go and flipped through the papers, eyes dancing across the page, and then his face dropped. “Shit. _Shit._ Tuition is nearly thirty fucking grand. I— We can’t afford this. We… If we want to go to the same school, we have to pick somewhere that we both get at least partial financial aid.”

“So, keep opening, then.” Richie picked up another thick envelope. “This one’s Pace.”

Eddie grabbed his Pace letter, also thick, and they opened them together.

“Partial.”

“Partial.”

“Fuck. This is so expensive.”

“Cal State,” Richie suggested. “You really wanted that one, right?”

Eddie nodded, glancing at said envelope. “Yeah, Northridge for psych.”

“Okay, and UCLA is pretty close to that. We don’t have to go to the same college, remember.”

“You still applied to Northridge, though?”

“Yeah. But they do more business and engineering and stuff.” Richie looked back down at the remaining envelopes and picked up his Northridge one. “It’s thin. I probably didn’t get in.”

“Let’s just open them.” Eddie sucked in a deep breath and ripped it open, sighing when he read the letter. “Partial financial aid.”

“I’m on the waiting list,” Richie said.

“So. UCLA and Northridge. That’s one contender.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie was biting his lip. “Rich, open Columbia.”

“Eddie, no.”

“Richie, _yes._ ”

“Mm,” Richie winked, “Say my name like that again, baby.”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Shut up and open the damn letter.”

Richie did. “Jesus fuck, I got in. BA in Film and Media Studies with financial aid. Holy fucking shit, Eds. I can’t believe I did it.”

Eddie’s face came into view and his hand rested on top of Richie’s. “I really think you should go for it.” Richie glanced up from the letter and met Eddie’s gaze, soft and warm with the corner of his lips curved up gently. His face was so close.

Richie cleared his throat and put the letter down. “NYU?”

Eddie nodded. “This looks promising.”

They tore open the envelopes and Richie started reading. “ _Dear Mr Tozier. Congratulations, we are delighted to inform you that you have been selected for admission to the New York University Tisch School of the Arts, Bachelor of Fine Arts Degree in Drama_.”

“ _Dear Mr Kaspbrak,_ blah blah blah, _New York University Arts & Science, Bachelor of Psychology_.” Eddie put down his packet and stared at Richie. “Holy shit, Rich.”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed. He flipped through the papers until he found the tuition section. “Oh my god, Eds, I got a full scholarship.”

“I got partial aid. Richie. Holy shit, Richie!”

Richie sat up on his calves and turned his body to face Eddie, heart thumping with excitement. “So it’s this or the Cali option, right?”

Eddie’s grin was contagious. “I mean, we should still check the rest of them, but yeah, this is— fuck, this is incredible!”

“So, which do we choose?” Richie asked, almost hoping Eddie would make the decision for them. 

“I suppose if you’re dead set on not going to Columbia…” Richie nodded and Eddie shrugged. “I mean, it’d make more sense to go to the same college, right? We could get a dorm, even.”

Richie hummed in agreement, face breaking out into a smile. “Exactly, so… Are we going to fucking NYU?”

“We’re going to fucking NYU!” Eddie vaulted off the bed and threw his letter behind him, scrambling around to Richie and grabbing his hands, yanking him to his feet to pull him into a hug, his body squirming with excitement. “Richie! I can’t believe this!”

Richie’s hands clutched at Eddie’s waist, pulling him back to look into his eyes. “We’re really fucking doin’ this,” he said through a grin. “We’re going to New York together, Eds. Just you and me, the dream team. Fuck the rest of those schools; you knew we were set for NYU right from the start.”

“The dream team,” Eddie repeated softly, hands skirting down Richie’s shoulders to grip his upper arms. “Ready or not, here we come.”

Richie chuckled. “Get it? R-Eddie? Like if you combined our names together. You’re real funny, Eds, when you’re not trying so hard.”

“Shut the fuck up, dickwad,” Eddie said, but his expression was gentle as he pulled Richie back down for a hug.

Richie’s eyes slid shut as the excitement died down and was replaced with a warm feeling of contentment, having Eddie in his arms, knowing their new lives were just around the corner. He breathed in deeply, squeezing once, and when he pulled back this time, Richie ducked his head down and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, not wet and messy like his usual joke kisses, but soft and chaste and a little tender, because his heart was so full of love and he didn’t have it in him to poke at Eddie’s fire right now. He could let himself have this moment and chalk it up to emotions running high if Eddie ever asked. A soft flush rose to Eddie’s cheeks when Richie pulled back and knocked their foreheads together, basking in the happiness flowing through them both. Eddie’s eyelids fluttered closed and Richie smiled, eyes dancing over his relaxed features, drinking in his beauty.

“New York is not going to be prepared for Richie Tozier,” Eddie said, a smirk creeping up on his face.

“Richie Tozier’s not gonna be prepared for an overdose of Eddie Kaspbrak. Someone call the ER – there was too much cuteness for one person to handle and his heart gave out.”

Eddie snorted. “Well, someone’s gotta be cute in this household and it’s definitely not you.”

Richie straight up giggled. “No one could ever compare to your cuteness, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Stop calling me that.” He flicked Richie’s arm half-heartedly.

“Get used to it, sugar, ‘cause you’re kind of stuck with me now. Dick jokes, nicknames and all.”

Eddie’s eyes opened and met Richie’s, then he took a step back, not disconnecting their hands but separating just enough so their bodies weren’t pressed together. He ran one hand up Richie’s arm to cup his jaw and Richie leaned instinctively into the touch. Eddie gave him a small smile that made Richie’s heart stutter. “I guess I can live with that.”

* * *

The week leading up to graduation was all kinds of bittersweet and Stan had been feeling uncharacteristically emotional. It was probably Richie’s fault – his random confessions and bouts of crying that had occurred in the past few years had tapped into Stan’s emotional side and unlocked doors within his heart that, up until recently, he’d been happily ignoring. The most prominent feeling as of late was some combination of sadness, knowing The Losers’ Club would be going their separate ways for college in a few short months, and giddy excitement, with the next chapter in their lives about to commence.

Everyone’s plans were like this: Stan would be heading off to Penn to study accounting, Bill had managed to squeeze his way into Northwestern in Illinois for creative writing, Richie would be looking for full-time work while working on some kind of stand-up comedy routine with eventual plans to move to LA, Eddie was going to UMaine for either nursing or psychology (Stan wasn’t sure because Eddie didn’t talk about it much), Beverly was off to SUNY Oneonta to pursue fashion design, with Ben at Cornell for architecture and the two of them planned to find a place together in suburban New York, and Mike wanted to stay in Derry for another year to continue working at the farm and library before taking time off to travel and probably end up in Florida.

So most of them, for the time being, weren’t straying far from Maine, and Stan was hopeful that they’d all keep in touch. He’d already envisioned a small piece of paper attached to his dorm wall with all of their phone numbers and addresses for ease of contact. He was not surprised at all to learn that Richie’s plans were to stay in Derry, because of course, he would never go anywhere without Eddie. Stan chuckled to himself and shook his head in disbelief. The amount of obtuse obliviousness those two had when it came to their disgustingly obvious feelings for each other was honestly quite infuriating.

They were all meeting at the clubhouse today for the last time as high school seniors and when Stan climbed down the ladder, he saw Richie and Eddie cuddled up on the couch asleep, Beverly in the hammock with Ben on the ground next to her, reading a book aloud, and Bill and Mike sitting at the table playing Uno. Mike slammed his last card down and stood up, said “suck it, Denbrough,” and the two of them broke out into a fit of laughter. This startled Eddie, who shot up and kneed Richie in the stomach and they both fell off the couch with a loud groan. Beverly and Ben glanced up to snicker at their idiot friends, before going back to their book, amused smirks on both of their faces. Stan couldn’t help how the corners of his lips quirked, a small smile spreading across his own face.

“Oi, wouldya look at that, mate?” Richie’s honestly shocking Australian accent echoed throughout the clubhouse. “Stanny Boy’s cracked a smile! Whatta guy!”

Eddie snorted. “Jesus, Rich, that one needs work.” Mike nodded in agreement while Stan walked over and stole the couch before the two idiots could get back up. “Hey! That’s our spot!”

“You’ll just have to share then, won’t you? Or go bother Bev for the hammock.”

“Nope,” Richie said, pulling Eddie up with him and sitting him on the couch, then throwing himself across both Eddie and Stan’s laps and nearly kicking Stan in the face.

“Ugh, Rich,” Eddie groaned, smacking Richie’s shoulder, “You’ve been eating too much pizza. You’re fucking heavy.”

“Come on, guys,” Ben said. “It’s our last day of school tomorrow, let’s just enjoy tonight and not fight with each other.”

Richie’s head popped up. “Listen, Benjamin, this ain’t fighting. This is how Eds and I show our love for each other.”

Stan’s eyes darted towards Eddie in anticipation of some angry, witty retort, but what he found was Eddie looking down at Richie fondly, and when he said, “Shut the fuck up, Richie,” there was no bite in his voice. Fucking hell, they couldn’t have been more obvious if they tried. Stan rolled his eyes and locked gazes with Beverly, who’d also been watching them, smirk ever present on her face. That woman knew everything, Stan was sure.

The room grew silent, what with Richie occupied with staring at Eddie, so Stan took this as his moment to speak.

“We’re all going to keep in contact, right? Even when we’re off in different states? We’re close enough to still meet up on holidays, maybe even come back home during the summer…”

Beverly slipped out of the hammock and took Ben’s hand, walking over to the couch. She sat on the arm next to Stan and placed her other hand on his shoulder. “Of course, Stan. You know, like we said all those years ago. Nothing’s going to keep us apart.”

Bill and Mike joined them, kneeling on the floor, sides pressed together. Richie ran his fingers through Bill’s hair as Stan dropped one hand to find Mike’s arm, the other coming up to his own shoulder where Bev was gripping lightly. Eddie reached over the back of the couch to fumble blindly until he found Ben, his other hand still laced with Richie’s fingers. Stan let out a deep sigh as another silence fell over the group, this time the air filled with love and promises and deep bonds formed when they were kids.

“We’re always g-go-going to be friends,” Bill said, looking up at Stan.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, “No matter how far away we move or how busy our lives get, we’ll always find time for each other.”

“We’ll call when we can and visit every holiday,” Ben added. “We made a promise to each other.”

Eddie hummed, eyes fixed on his hand intertwined with Richie’s. “Losers stick together,” he all but whispered.

The rare soft moment from Eddie didn’t remain the focus for long, the quiet in the clubhouse heavy as they all waited for the seventh affirmation, the last member of their group to say something, assure them that they were all on the same page. Everyone’s eyes fell on Richie – their resident Trashmouth, not saying a word. Stan moved his hand from Bev’s and let it fall gently on Richie’s shin where it was still lying across his lap. He gave a light squeeze, forcing Richie’s attention to divert from his and Eddie’s hands and look up at the rest of their friends, all watching him curiously.

Richie’s eyes were wet and shiny as he slipped off his glasses. Eddie took them and tucked them into his breast pocket, thumb rubbing slowly over his hand. Richie sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “I’m gonna fuckin’ miss you guys.” He was met with fond, empathetic gazes from all his friends.

“Aw, honey, it’s okay,” Bev said. “We’re not leaving just yet.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, Rich. We’ve still got Eddie and SSStan’s birthdays and the fourth of Jul-l-ly fair. Most of us aren’t l-le-leaving until the end o-of August.”

Richie’s eyes darted up to meet Eddie’s, the two exchanging a brief look that Stan couldn’t place. “Right, yeah, of course.” Richie cleared his throat and grabbed his glasses back. “Guess you guys can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be stickin’ round till you’re begging to be rid of my trash talking. Except you, Eds, and Mikey boy – the last of the Losers.” He clutched his chest dramatically, fake-wiping a tear from his eyes. “Such a shame the rest of y’all are leaving your moms and aunts behind for me to—”

“Oh, beep beep, Richie,” Beverly giggled, the rest of them chuckling softly. “We’re all going to miss your stupid mouth, don’t you worry.”

“You flatter me, Marsh.”

“But we don’t need to worry about that right now,” Eddie said, giving Richie’s hand a squeeze. “Like we said, we’ve still got time.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be calling us every other day to talk our ears off,” Stan added.

Richie winked. “Don’t you know it, Staniel.”

With all of them still holding onto each other, feeling the love flow through their veins, Stan let out a soft, happy sigh. These next couple of months would be treasured dearly, held close to his heart along with the precious memories of the past five years and beyond. Of days at the quarry and nights at Bill’s. Of simpler times in the sandbox, of pool parties and birthday gifts and trips to the bookstore. Dragging Bill or Richie to birdwatch with him or listening to vinyls with Eddie, reading and learning with Ben, letting Mike teach him about farm animals or letting Beverly braid his hair. Even memories of sad nights with Richie crying into his shoulder or Stan himself crying into Bill’s, being woken once again by nightmares from their early teenage years. Stan knew with certainty that he would not have been able to survive these last few years without the Losers. For a while after the incidents of eighty-nine, Stan had wanted to leave everything behind and delete his entire life up until that point if it meant forgetting about the creature that haunted his dreams. But these people had been there for him, surrounded him with love and comfort, held him when he needed physical affection and distracted him when he needed that, too. Stan squeezed both his hands, now holding Richie and Beverly. These people, these amazing six people sitting around him right now, were his found family.

The principal of Derry High School cleared his throat after finishing his speech, hand gripping the microphone. “And now I present this year’s valedictorian, Stanley Uris.”

The cheer from the audience was completely drowned out in Stan’s ears by the cheers of his friends behind him as he walked onto the stage and up to the lectern. His heart swelled with affection, he could hear Richie whooping and Bill shouting through cupped hands and Mike whistling. After placing his speech paper on the stand, he adjusted the microphone and straightened his graduation gown.

“Today is a day for which I am thankful, grateful, and deeply inspired by,” he began. “I am thankful, first and foremost, for the amazing group of students sitting in front of me. Today we celebrate our achievements, academic, athletic and artistic alike, and for that we have the teachers at Derry High to thank. For pushing us to be better students and better people. For always answering our silly questions, for challenging our thinking and helping us grow. And for not turning us down when we came searching the classrooms and library for more guides on various rope tying techniques and simply indulging our strange hobbies.”

A low rumble of laughter came from the audience and Stan smiled.

“I am grateful for the opportunities with which we were given at this school. In my group of friends alone we have football players and track runners, theatre performers, fashion designers and budding architects, and then me, on the chess team. I implore you, teachers of Derry, please allow a bird-watching club for future students, it honestly would have made my entire year.”

Stan heard Richie and Beverly cackling from the audience.

“It’s our heroes who inspire us. For some of us, that might be our favourite teacher who sparked a passion within our hearts, or our parents who have careers we aspire to have ourselves, or our older siblings who we’ve been looking up to for years. For me, it’s my classmates, my friends sitting in front of me. These people, we stuck together through thick and thin, helped each other through the hardest of times when it felt like the world was ending. We supported each other and loved each other and gave each other the courage to reach further and strive for bigger goals. I used to be so afraid of the future, always struggled with wanting to be perfect and do what people expected of me. I realise now that we are in charge of our own futures.

“Even standing up here now, I can feel that fear resurfacing. I’m still afraid, in a way. Afraid of what’s going to come next, and of what I might leave behind. But we can’t let that consume us. My fellow classmates, I have one message for you: We define our own destiny. Be who you want to be and be proud. Some of us are born to be leaders, some to make people laugh and some to take care of others. Some of us are headstrong, some have kind hearts, some impart great wisdom. Just follow your own path, wherever that may take you.

“So, here’s to the class of nineteen-ninety-four. Congratulations, Losers, we made it.”

* * *

It was the last night he was ever going to spend in his childhood bedroom and Eddie couldn’t sleep. He and Richie had left Bill’s place early, cutting the Losers’ afterparty short in favour of getting a few hours of shuteye before they left in the middle of the night. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Richie would be over in four hours.

Leaving their friends had been hard and lying to them about why they were leaving certainly didn’t help the sick, uncomfortable ball of guilt prodding angrily from inside Eddie’s stomach, trying to claw its way out. Eddie had reached out a grasped Richie’s hand as they made the rounds, hugging each Loser in turn, trying to remember that they were supposed to all be meeting up in a couple of days and that shedding tears would incur too many unwanted questions.

Beverly, Ben, Mike, Bill, Stan.

Richie’d held onto Stan for several minutes in the corner of the room, the others off dancing and drinking again and not paying them any attention. Eddie had seen Richie whispering in Stan’s ear, seen a tear slip down Stan’s cheek, and part of him had wanted to pull them apart and scold Richie because he knew exactly what’d been happening, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do that to them. Richie knew enough to not give their exact whereabouts away and Eddie probably trusted Stan the most out of all the Losers, anyway. Their secret would be safe with him.

When Eddie had been dropped home a few hours ago, he’d tossed the last of his clothes, toiletries, important school things and keepsakes into his largest backpack that was now sitting by the window in anticipation of Richie’s arrival. They’d already packed most of their things into suitcases and hauled them into Richie’s car in the last few days, with Eddie only packing things that were in drawers or his wardrobe since his mother always walked into his room unannounced. Sonia had already been asleep by the time Eddie finished packing and when he’d gone to the bathroom for his nightly routine, he’d noticed she’d taken a sleeping pill. Feeling bold, Eddie had snuck into her room and made a beeline for the drawer where he knew she kept any mail that was addressed to him – most of it was just letters from school like his report cards and such, so he never cared enough to fight her about it. Now, though, he wanted all of his shit with him, so he’d grabbed the whole lot and stuffed it into his backpack to inspect in the car.

The drive was probably going to take them nine hours, given Richie’s constant need to take breaks and stretch his stupidly long limbs. Eddie had gotten his license during spring break with the help of Ben and Linda, so he’d switch roles with Richie halfway to New York City. They planned to start scouting Queens for properties from the very first day and would stay in a motel until they secured somewhere more long-term. Although they’d talked about getting a dorm together, admissions weren’t allowing students to move in until mid-August so they needed, at the very least, to find somewhere to live for a few months.

Eddie finally felt himself drifting off to sleep, eyes heavy with the amount of _stuff_ he’d been doing for two fucking years in preparation for this. All the days spent in the library, the hours spent studying, the late nights talking about their futures, it had all been leading to this. And here they were. Four hours away from leaving Derry, possibly forever.

Eddie was woken by the sound of rocks being thrown at his window and he was so used to being woken this way that he almost forgot why this time was special.

Richie came up to help Eddie get the last of his things and he took Eddie’s backpack as he climbed down the house, whisper-shouting when he’d made it down so Eddie could safely descend after him. Looking around his bedroom one last time, Eddie allowed himself a few moments, indulging his heavy heart with a minute of sentimentality. He might never see this room again. His mother, he would not miss, Eddie knew that with his entire body and soul. The rest of his life, his house, this place where he’d grown up… maybe. Memories formed with the Losers, Richie especially, were the main reasons he’d ever liked being at home. His mom made him feel miserable and trapped.

Eddie didn’t have to feel trapped anymore.

With a deep, satisfying sigh, he turned and left his room through the window, climbing down into Richie’s waiting arms. Eddie hugged him back, squeezed tightly, tucking his face into his neck.

“This is it, Spaghetti.”

Eddie laughed, the bubbling sensation warm in his chest. “Yeah, so let’s get a fucking move on.”

As soon as they pulled away from the curb and drove down the street, Eddie felt like his body was expanding, filling up with fresh air, like he would lift off his seat at any moment and just float away. He felt _free._

His mom couldn’t touch him anymore. She couldn’t control him; no one could. He was his own person now, about to start his own life with nobody, no parent or doctor or small-minded town holding him back.

“Fuck Derry,” Eddie whispered.

Richie hummed. “Yep. We’re fuckin’ out of here, Eds.” He stuck a cassette tape into the radio and cracked up the volume, slipping into his infamous Talk Show Host Voice. “Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Richie And Eddie‘s Road Trip Tune Extravaganza! First up, we have a classic, a favourite of both members of the dream team. Saddle up and get yourselves hyped! New York, here we come!”

Eddie almost laughed when the song started playing. “This isn’t hype music, Rich.”

“I know, but it’s one of our favourites, like I said. Besides, I think it describes us perfectly.”

Eddie did not want to dwell on what Richie meant by that, but that became rather difficult when Richie started singing the chorus right in his ear.

_“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do. I bless the rains down in Africa. It’s gonna take some time to do the things we never had!”_

Eddie’s eyes softened, watching Richie tap his fingers along to the beat. He then remembered all his mail and started digging through his backpack to find letters that weren’t from school. There were some from his bank that he hadn’t managed to get to before Sonia, thankfully unopened, including one particularly thick envelope. Eddie frowned, beginning to open it.

“Whatcha got there, Eds?”

“Something from the bank, I—” Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth. “Holy fucking shit.”

“What? What is it? Eds, talk to me, is that a good ‘holy fucking shit’?”

Eddie’s eyes danced across the page frantically, ignoring Richie’s questions. “Oh my god, Rich.” He put the paper down and turned to face him. “My dad left me a trust fund that I could access when I turned eighteen. There’s twenty thousand dollars in a bank account for me to go to college.”

Richie’s mouth was agape. “Holy fucking shit indeed.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Eddie’s eyes. Where his mother had sorely lacked in the caring parent department, from what he could remember, Eddie’s father had excelled, taking every opportunity to talk to his son about his day at kindergarten, ask if he’d made any new friends, watch cartoons with him and teach him about the tools he was using to fix up their car. Eddie felt the tears roll down his cheeks, eyes slipping shut as a fond, thankful smile crept up on his face.

“Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

“Frank Kaspbrak, coming through and saving the day.” Richie pressed his fingers to his lips and held them out, eyes looking up at the sky. “I wish I got to meet him.”

“Yeah. He would have loved you. Something makes me think you have his kind of humour.”

“You mean ‘cause I’m fucking your mom?”

Eddie barked out a laugh, watching Richie with disbelief. “You… god, you’re ridiculous.”

Looking at Richie, Eddie was fondly reminded how he’d felt when they were thirteen and at the quarry for the first time. How Beverly had jumped off the cliff into the water and the boys had stared after her for a few moments, how Richie had made a joke, Eddie had expressed nervous worry, and one by one, they’d all jumped in after her. Bill, then Ben, then Stan. Eddie had been scared, swallowed nervously and taken a step back, and Richie, of course, had noticed. Richie had grabbed his hand and told him it would be okay and they could jump together, and Eddie’s heart had fluttered a little as the lept off the cliff, hands clasped tightly with his best friend’s. He’d been so scared of the unknown, unsure what was waiting for him at the bottom of the water, unsure if he’d even make it down alive. That Summer had been terrifying for so many reasons, including discovering his feelings for Richie. Eddie had been scared of the clown and the leper, sure, but mostly of his own fucking shadow, of the _want_ in his chest, of what his mom would say if she found out what went through his head when he looked at his friends.

But Sonia and It were gone now, and Eddie didn’t have to be scared anymore.

He’d grown substantially since then, mentally and emotionally, in small ways at least. In putting his mom in her place and finally giving up the placebo medicine, in saying _I’m gay_ in his head to himself in the mirror and saying it out loud to Matt Roberts years later, in kissing Matt Roberts and knowing that, _yes, this feels right, there is nothing wrong with me._ Even being here, right now, in this car with Richie Tozier, a friend his mother had not wanted him to have, driving off to go to a college that she did not want him to attend, to study what _he_ wanted, in another fucking state, Eddie knew he’d grown.

He reached out and grabbed Richie’s hand that was tapping away on his thigh, just like Richie had grabbed his all those years ago. Now, Eddie didn’t feel that constant, gnawing fear deep inside him when he thought about Richie – he just felt an overwhelming sense of love. And it was love of all kinds. Richie was his best friend, after all. Sometimes, while Eddie was busy thinking about kissing Richie or confessing his feelings, he forgot that they were, at their core, truly best friends. And soon to be roommates.

Richie’s face broke out into a grin as a new song came on and he started singing. “ _Ooh, baby do you know what that’s worth? Ooh, heaven is a place on Earth._ ” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand. “ _They say in heaven, love comes first. We’ll make heaven a place on Earth!”_

Eddie continued to stare at him, smiling softly, and when Richie turned and caught him staring, he just grinned wider, and Eddie felt like he was falling in love all over again.

“Eds, look.”

Eddie tore his eyes away from Richie to see the sign coming into view under the street lights.

_Now Leaving Derry. Come Back Soon!_

Eddie and Richie would not be coming back soon. They might not be coming back at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO THERE U HAVE IT!! They’re outta here! Our boys, off to conquer the world!! <333
> 
> So I know I said I was working on another lil fic, but I have not touched it in like two weeks. I’ve mostly got my mojo back for this one, so I’m sticking with it and pumping out chapters for part two in new york. There will still be a bit of a break between now and the next chapter being posted, and updates will get slower cause I start uni next week. I'm trying my best to keep on top of it now for when I'm on placement for five weeks in April/May/June, cause I don't wanna stop posting, but we'll see how it goes.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading so far! Especially the people who leave sweet comments on every chapter - you guys keep me writing <3
> 
> (Sorry for the long author's note)
> 
> See you all in a couple of weeks *fingers crossed* xoxox


	12. Honey, I'm home!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 1994. Richie and Eddie navigate domestic-but-not-dating life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS i’m so sorry it’s been so long. I’ve had pretty bad writer’s block at the moment and all my uni classes have been moved online so I’ve really struggled with keeping on top of my work independently :((( I didn’t even get to finish the chapter I was working on, I just really wanted to post this cause I don’t wanna keep you guys waiting too long. 
> 
> I wanna say that the chapters in pt2 are going to be shorter because my outlines have less stuff in them… but you know me… i can’t stick to a word limit to save my life. Also, I’m bumping up the rating now for the eventual smut so you don’t know when it’s coming ;)
> 
> THANK YOU FOR STICKING AROUND AND READING AND COMMENTING <333
> 
> Warnings for this chap: implied/referenced drunk sexual happenings.

PART 2

A giddy smile broke out across Eddie’s face when he went down to collect their mail in the late morning.

_ 7/27 Cornelia Street, Ridgewood, Queens, NY. _

They’d been living here for five months and he still sometimes felt an overwhelming surge of  _ I can’t believe this is my life now. _ The elevator in their apartment building was permanently broken so Eddie took the stairs up to the third floor, jangling his key in the door a few times until it turned and opened. He sorted the mail into three piles: one each for him and Richie and one of shared things, their monthly gas and electricity bills among them. He left the mail on the kitchen bench and turned on the kettle, grabbing his mug from the cabinet while he waited for the water to boil.

Eddie had finally allowed himself a sleep-in after five hectic days of class because apparently every professor in the entire school wanted to set assignments to be due the week before Thanksgiving even though it was only a long weekend, not a week-long holiday, and it wasn’t like they were going to read and mark hundreds of essays in four fucking days. Eddie would be lucky to get all his work back before Christmas.

He poured himself a coffee and retreated to their bedroom, cursing Richie’s early morning rehearsals and cursing Richie in general for leaving the house without cleaning up after himself or making his damn bed. It really wasn’t that hard. Eddie set his mug down and fixed up both of their single beds, picked up Richie’s bedside lamp where he’d knocked it down in his haste to get ready in the morning, and knelt down to gather Richie’s pajamas from where they’d been kicked under the bed, throwing the clothes into the washing hamper at the foot of his bed. Eddie smiled when he saw a shoebox stashed under Richie’s bed, knowing his cute notes and gifts from Domino’s were still kept in there and that Richie cared enough to bring them with him to New York. Looking at the overflowing hamper, Eddie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and added a note to Richie’s running checklist to go to the all-night laundromat down the road when he returned from rehearsals. There were a couple of things already on the list from yesterday, things that Eddie wrote down so his dumbass roommate wouldn’t forget to do chores. Honestly, Eddie sometimes felt sorry for Maggie Tozier, having to deal with Richie doing fuck all around the house his whole life.

This was one of the main problems he had with living with Richie. Eddie had to fucking do  _ everything. _ He had no clue how Richie had gotten through eighteen years of life without making his bed, doing his own dishes, or even knowing how to cook properly. He forgot everything Eddie told him he had to do whenever Eddie was gone all day, yet he still came home, exhausted from dealing with customers at work or shitty group members in class, and there was Richie, on his day off, lying on the fucking couch, playing on his GameBoy like he hadn’t a care in the world. For the first few weeks, it had almost been endearing, coming home to an excited Richie who started babbling immediately about his morning shift or something dumb his coworker had said or even something interesting he’d read in the paper. Leaving Richie alone in the house all day was obviously a terrible idea. The boy got bored  _ so easily, _ Eddie couldn’t understand it. He really was considering getting him some stress balls and maybe some fucking toys to keep him busy. But then Eddie realised that Richie should already be busy. With housework. Which he was not, which meant Eddie had chewed his ear off several times about leaving shit around for him to deal with after a long day.

Richie had improved since that first month, marginally. He still left his shit around the apartment and still couldn’t cook a proper meal to save his life, but at least he did sweep sometimes, cleared the table when Eddie asked, always topped up Eddie’s shampoo and conditioner and soap and moisturiser when he noticed he was getting low on the stuff, and Eddie had not found the ‘cum t-shirt’ he always talked about, so Richie must’ve been putting his gross stuff somewhere Eddie couldn’t find it or actually doing all the washing as he promised.

Eddie looked up at the wall in the space between their beds, eyes dancing over the photos blu-tacked there haphazardly. Most of them were of The Losers’ Club, some from Bill’s sleepovers and Mike’s parties and the silly group photo from prom, as well as some (rather cute, Eddie would admit) photos of just the two of them from their road trip to Portsmouth and some classic sightseeing snaps from when they’d first arrived in New York. Alongside those were some polaroids from the Woodstock Festival that Eddie surprised Richie with tickets for in August, brushing it off as one last hoorah before college started when it was also just an excuse to spoil Richie with a rock music concert that he hadn’t shut up about for a month after the lineup was released to the public.

By August they had ditched Richie’s piece of shit car and used the little money they’d gotten for its parts to go towards a somewhat nicer car that Eddie picked out, one with a built-in CD player, and he was the one who drove them to the festival when Richie swore off driving in New York after his horrendous first time attempting to navigate all the one-way streets and aggressive drivers. Richie was not assertive enough to drive in this city, so Eddie did most of the driving (and yelling at other people on the road because apparently he was the only person who knew the damn road rules around here). Eddie sometimes tinkered with their car whenever he had the chance, taking in all he’d learned from long days reading with Ben in the library and putting his knowledge to good use, ignoring Richie’s snickering and remarks about him being all greased up like a sexy mechanic. Working on the car made Eddie think of his father and he eventually decided to take the photograph of the two of them from the early eighties out of his wallet and pinned it to the car’s dashboard. Richie hadn’t teased him about that one.

When he finished his coffee and made a mental note to do the dishes after lunch, Eddie went to take a shower. Standing there with his hand under the running water for at least five minutes waiting for it to heat up, he sort of wished, not for the first time, that they’d applied for a dorm room once classes had started. Richie’s scholarship would have allowed him his first preference for dorming and probably let him choose his roommate, too. But they’d been so excited and  _ happy  _ living in Ridgewood for those first few months and couldn’t imagine abandoning their new home just for the ease of getting to class or the convenience of quickly heating water. The dorms wouldn’t have been cheap for Eddie, either, with the university only paying for part of his tuition. It was something they talked about several times, even fought about once or twice, with Eddie threatening to request a different roommate if Richie didn’t get his shit together and actually contribute to the running of their apartment. Richie had pulled himself together a little more after that, sometimes spoiling Eddie with the one thing he could cook – pancakes. He hadn’t been forgiven instantly. That was the kind of thing fifteen-year-old Eddie would have done. Nineteen-year-old Eddie preferred giving Richie the cold shoulder, knowing that the boy hated being ignored, especially by him, and would do anything to get back in his good books, even if that meant dusting their place from top to bottom and getting down on his hands and knees to scrub the bathroom floor.

Eddie checked the clock on the bathroom wall while he towel-dried his hair. He was working a shift at the grocery store in the late afternoon, heading out around the time Richie was due home. Ryan would also be working today and Eddie blushed when he remembered this. Ryan.  _ Ryan.  _ Eddie had met Ryan on the first day of college when the guy walked into his statistics lecture and sat a few seats away from where Eddie was in the front row. Ryan was the pinnacle embodiment of tall, dark and handsome and had taken Eddie’s breath away the instant they locked eyes across the room, a shy smile growing on Eddie’s face when he’d walked towards him, flashing Eddie a small grin as he dropped his backpack and sat down. They didn’t speak a word to each other during or after the lecture, but when Eddie had a shift at the grocery store a few days later and saw new employee Ryan there for his first day, he figured the universe might be trying to tell him something.

The first time they hung out was for a study date, both realising how much they were struggling with the current stats assignment. Ryan lived on campus so he’d offered up his dorm for them to work in, and they did actually get through a fair amount of work before their conversation devolved into complaints about strict professors and messy roommates and eventually settled on casual trading back and forth their opinions on music and movies that the other liked. Eddie made him listen to The Pointer Sisters and Ryan gave him some traditional Sri Lankan sweets that his mother made. Eddie was a sucker for sweet food and boys alike, what could he say?

Ryan was easy to get along with, Eddie found. He sometimes compared him to the perfect blend of Matt Roberts, Richie and Bill. Charming, funny, intelligent and really fucking good looking. When Ryan asked Eddie about his roommate situation, he tried to keep his talking to a minimum, not wanting to give off gay-and-kind-of-still-in-love-with-his-best-friend vibes just in case Ryan wasn’t okay with that. But then Ryan elaborated on his hatred for his own roommate, saying he was not only racist, but homophobic as well, always going on about the riots in New York from a few years back and the gay clubs in Soho that needed to be shut down. It made Eddie furious. But this admission, creating this subtle link between Ryan’s ethnicity and his apparent sexuality, gave Eddie all the confirmation he needed and with that, he asked Ryan to go to dinner with him. And even if he hadn’t been sure before, the subtle blush that crept up on Ryan’s cheeks when he agreed was an answer enough.

They weren’t  _ boyfriends _ as such, mostly because they were both too shy and closeted to use such a term, but there had been real dates and heavy kissing and quiet confessions of  _ I really like you _ in the break room after work. They also weren’t boyfriends because Eddie had seen Ryan smiling and sort of flirting with some other boy in his chemistry class, exactly the sort of smiling and flirting he did with Eddie the first few times they talked. It hurt a little, but they hadn’t discussed being exclusive so Eddie couldn’t expect anything from him. It was also fine because the boy Ryan was talking to was really fucking cute and also in one of Eddie’s other classes and, well, two could play that game. Eddie could be petty when he felt like he had something to prove, and the smug pride he felt when chemistry boy showed up to class with a hickey poking out from his collar that Eddie had left there in the same spot he liked to leave them on Ryan was unbelievably satisfying. When his not-boyfriend asked about said hickey, Eddie only gave him a smirk, which earned him a low growl that was kind of hot and Eddie ended up pressed into Ryan’s mattress while they made out for a good two hours.

There was a sometimes-illegal underage club in Manhattan that was accepting of all sexualities with entry by invite-only – sometimes-illegal because once a fortnight they served alcoholic beverages, but the date was told on a need to know basis and apparently, Ryan had somehow made his way onto their list through a friend of a friend of a sister of their supplier. He’d taken Eddie there on a particularly cold day in October, close to Halloween, excited because it was the first alcohol-day that also fell on an LGBT event day since they’d started college. Underneath their heavy coats, Ryan had applied a small amount of glitter to his shoulders and Eddie’s collarbones, stolen from his asshole roommate’s art supplies. Five drinks deep, Eddie had fully been intending to go home with Ryan and maybe tomorrow ask him about being actual boyfriends, but by the time they’d made it out of the club, laughing and stumbling their way back to the NYU dorms, the exhaustion of dancing all night started to catch up to them. They’d both been a little tipsy and a little tired, both a lot horny and a lot inexperienced, and Eddie found himself giggling, thinking about how his eleven-year-old self would have thrown a fit if he knew he’d have a dick in his mouth in eight years’ time.

Richie hadn’t been home that next morning, which was a fucking godsend, in Eddie’s opinion, because he did not need to be teased about his first walk of shame by the fucking king of walks of shame. In his haste to get out of Ryan’s place before his roommate returned, Eddie never did get the chance to ask him about being boyfriends and even now, weeks later, he lacked the confidence to bring it up, his pride and need to control his own life having slowly been worn away watching Ryan flirt with other boys and flirting with other boys himself. So what if he liked the attention? He’d spent nineteen years being repressed, closeted and scared – he was allowed to go a little overboard with the number of boys he locked lips with now that he finally  _ could. _

Eddie looked at the calendar while he washed the dishes. Richie had a shift at the music store tomorrow while Eddie was also working, so maybe they could have dinner and finally go see that new sci-fi movie they’d been talking about for a month. He dried his hands and flipped the calendar over, glancing at their plans for December. Richie’d said one of his friends was talking about having a Christmas party for those who weren’t going home for the holiday and even though Eddie still wasn’t overly fond of parties, Richie seemed keen so he supposed he’d brave the onslaught of drunken eighteen-year-olds for him. They were probably going to go to Times Square to watch the ball drop on New Year’s Eve, because they couldn’t  _ not, _ not for their first New Year’s Eve here, at least. Richie’s two weeks of nightly performances for whatever play or musical they were working on now was also coming up next month. Eddie groaned. So many events in so little time. Holidays stressed him out to no end.

Glancing at his watch, Eddie saw he’d need to leave in about an hour to catch the train to Bushwick for work, so he finished putting away the dishes and went back into the bedroom to pack his bag, adding another note for Richie to find somewhere for them to eat tomorrow to the ever-growing to-do list.

Eddie sighed. Richie’s stupid jokes about him being the best househusband weren’t far from correct, and that irritated the hell out of him.

Eddie may have had a thing for his tall, dark and handsome coworker and classmate, but his feelings for his idiotic, lanky best friend were still simmering there, right under the surface of his skin, and it would surely only be a matter of time before they were ignited once again. Still, he’d learned to ignore those feelings, and for now, with any number of cute boys at his disposal to make out with in the meantime, Eddie was doing just fine.

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What the fuck have I told you about saying that?!”

Richie scooted behind him in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his waist, tucking his chin over his shoulder. “I remember having no such conversation, Eddie my love.”

“Shut up, Richie. And let go of me!” Eddie shrugged him off and waved him away with his tongs. “You’re going to burn yourself.”

“It’d be so worth it, though, to cuddle you. Not my fault I have the cutest roommate in the whole damn world.”

“Go set the fucking table, you idiot.”

“Yessir, on it!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the frying pan, trying to ignore the stupid grin growing on his face. He heard Richie walking around behind him, reaching into the cupboards to get plates and glasses out. There was silence for a moment, and just as Eddie was going to turn around to see what Richie was up to, the boy zoomed in out of nowhere with a fork and dunked it into Eddie’s pan, stabbing a piece of potato and running across the room, squealing with delight.

“That’s fucking hot, Richie!”

“Not as hot as your mom, Eddie Spaghetti— oh, _ fuck, fuck! _ ”

“What did I tell you?”

Richie coughed and dropped the fork on the floor, potato landing at his feet. He squatted and grabbed the fork and food and popped it back into his mouth as Eddie gagged and let out a groan.

“Richie! That’s so gross, what the fuck?”

“Five second rule, Eds.”

Eddie huffed, turning back to the stove. “You know that rule is bullshit, right? It’s more about the texture and consistency of the food than how long it’s on the floor. A damp piece of potato on the floor for one second will still pick up more bacteria than a dry biscuit you dropped for ten seconds. So you just ate whatever disgusting shit is on our floorboards. I hope you get fucking sick.”

“You’d just have to take care of me, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d love that, mommy’s boy.”

“Shut up. That is so not funny.” Eddie wasn’t super sensitive about Richie’s digs at his mom anymore, but he wasn’t exactly fond of hearing it. 

“It’s a little bit funny, Eds.”

Eddie turned off the stove and spun around, pointing his tongs at Richie. “Keep going, Tozier. I’ll poison your food.”

Richie slapped the back of his hand against his forehead with far more theatricality than necessary. “Oh, Lord, please save me from this horrid  _ beast  _ I’m stuck living with! I can’t  _ take  _ it any longer! You don’t know how he  _ treats  _ me!”

Eddie chuckled, bringing the pan over to the table to serve their food. “Shut the fuck up and sit down before I give your dinner to the homeless man outside our building.”

“Oh, you gonna punish me, Eds?” Richie winked, but sat down anyway.

Eddie rapped the back of Richie’s knuckles with his tongs. “Don’t tempt me, bitch.”

“Yowza! All this dinner foreplay is really startin’ to get me going. Better hope you’re not all talk, Kaspbrak.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Eddie wasn’t sure if their banter had always been this flirty or if it had changed since they started living together, but he was enjoying it either way and, judging by the way his eyes crinkled when laughed, Richie was, too. While they ate, Eddie started talking about the lack of items in their fridge and how they were going to have nothing to eat on Thanksgiving, rattling off a list of things Richie had forgotten when he’d gone to the store yesterday. Richie complained about being cold and Eddie told him it was because he needed more meat on his bones, that skinny fucker, but got up and turned their central heating on anyway. Their next gas bill would not be happy, but Richie’s cheeks always flushed pink when he got warmed up and all his freckles stood out more and it was just about the cutest thing Eddie had ever seen.

“So,” Richie said, talking through a mouthful of food, “There’s this exclusive place downtown that Lily wants to take me to next week, if you wanna tag along. Her brother works there and can get us free entry.”

“Sounds dodgy.”

“Would you expect anything less from a friend of mine?”

“I’m a friend of yours,” Eddie pointed out.

“You’re different,” Richie said simply. Eddie considered asking what that was supposed to mean, but he sort of already knew, and Richie continued talking. “Anyway, it’s this cool club that only serves mocktails and shit for eighteen- to twenty-year-olds.”

“I think I know the one. Who else is coming?”

“O-Oh, um,” Richie faltered, “The two of us and her, uh, her girlfriend.”

They stared at each other for a moment. “Girlfriend?” Eddie asked.

Richie’s hand came up to push his glasses up his nose. “Yeah. Her name’s Alex. I kind of set them up. Alex was complaining about how long it’d been since she got laid and she mentioned an ex-girlfriend and then I remembered Lily was gay so I got them to meet and they hit it off instantly.” Richie was nervous. Richie rambled without making jokes about Eddie when he was nervous. There was no way in hell Richie was gay so why the fuck was this making Richie nervous? “Honestly, I should drop outta school and become a full-time matchmaker. I’d definitely pair you and me together, Eds. You’re already my perfect little househusband and it’d just be the icing on the cake to make it official.”

Eddie spluttered. “Beep beep, Richie,” he said, figuring that playing it off as a joke was a hundred times better than letting himself believe Richie was being at all serious. Then he realised something. “You said next week, right?”

Richie nodded. “Thursday, I think she said.”

“Oh. I can’t Thursday. I… I’ve got a, um, date.”

Richie’s eyes widened almost comically. “A date? You’ve got a date? With who?”

In the span of three seconds, several things went through Eddie’s mind.

Despite all the confusing moments and feelings he and Richie shared, the looks, the touches, hand holding and cuddling, no one had ever explicitly brought up  _ the gay thing. _ For the longest time, Eddie had been too afraid to talk about it, and even once he’d fully accepted it as a part of himself, he didn’t want to disturb whatever thing he and Richie had. As more time passed, the more reluctant Eddie felt to talk about it so openly. They had a good thing, Richie and Eddie, and if bringing it to Richie’s attention presented a potential risk to their weird friendship, Eddie would keep his mouth shut. He would regret it for the rest of his life if he ruined it.

But apparently Richie  _ had  _ been thinking about the gay thing. Not in the same context, maybe, but he thought about it enough to set two girls up on a date, so  _ surely _ he realised his friendship with Eddie was not normal. Richie had been bullied in middle school just as much as Eddie had about being gay, so he  _ knew _ the kind of trouble he could get himself into by being so touchy-feely with Eddie, yet, he did it anyway. Maybe that’s why their bickering had become so flirty since they left Derry, because they were  _ allowed _ to say things like that, in public, private, around friends, wherever, and no one cared. And maybe Richie wouldn’t care if Eddie just told him the truth.

So, Eddie was going to answer Richie’s question honestly. He had a date with Ryan on Thursday.

“Just someone from my stats class,” Eddie began, heart thumping against his chest because  _ holy shit _ he was about to come out to Richie. “Ry—”

The room went dark before Eddie could finish his sentence, the buzzing from the heater stopped and the faint fridge-sounds from the kitchen went silent.

“What the fuck?” Richie squeaked. “Did we just lose power?”

Eddie’s instincts kicked into gear and he stood up from the table, pointing towards the kitchen and directing Richie. “Go turn off all the lights and powerpoints, unplug everything. We don’t want anything ruined if there’s a power surge.” Richie nodded and went while Eddie walked over to the window and peered out to see if there were any lights on across the road.

Richie came back into the room. “Done. What now?”

“Go out and knock on the neighbours’ doors. Across the street still has power. It might just be our building.”

Richie left and Eddie went into their bedroom, grabbing sweaters for both of them and the battery-powered radio from the back of his closet, along with a box of supplies. He turned on the radio and fixed the channel, tuning into the news. He heard fumbling from the other room and grabbed a torch from the box, bringing everything back out to the kitchen.

“Eight and nine are out,” Richie said, accepting the sweater from Eddie.

“Shit. It’s gonna get cold tonight, Rich,” Eddie said. He opened the fridge and took out the most important food to put into the freezer to keep them cold for longer. “Let’s get the extra blankets and bundle up together. Body heat is the best way to keep warm.”

Eddie couldn’t see the blush rising to Richie’s cheeks as he followed him down the hall with the torch. Richie pulled down the spare doona and throw rugs from the top of their linen cupboard, piling them on top of Eddie’s head with a soft laugh.

“Dick,” Eddie mumbled under the blankets. Richie started making a fort on Eddie’s bed while Eddie went to clean up the dinner table, and Richie was already bundled up when Eddie returned to their room, the torch sitting on Eddie’s desk facing Richie. “You’re cute,” he said with a smile, and this time, Richie’s blush was illuminated by the torchlight, only making Eddie’s smile grow wider.

“Eddie Spaghetti, I’m truly scandalised. I thought  _ I _ was the one dishing out the compliments.”

“I guess I’ve been spending too much time with you, then,” Eddie replied, nudging Richie’s arms out of the way so he could crawl into the blanket bundle. Richie’s arms snaked back around him once they were both settled, leaning back against the headboard, Eddie’s face tucked into Richie’s neck.

“Just like the good ol’ days, huh, Eds?” Richie murmured into his hair. “Richie and Eddie, the dream team, the ultimate cuddle bugs.”

“Speak for yourself,” Eddie teased. “I’m only here to keep my dick from freezing off.” He paused. “Wow, I really am spending too much time with you.”

Richie laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “There ain’t no such thing.”

* * *

Richie decided after the first few months living in New York that Eddie was trying to kill him. Unintentionally, of course, but kill him nonetheless. It wasn’t the flirty banter or the touches in passing or the drawn-out, almost suggestive stares that were doing it. It was his fucking  _ clothing. _

Eddie Kaspbrak In New York looked like a whole different person to Eddie Kaspbrak In Derry. Within a couple of weeks, he’d bought a pair of fucking overalls. How was Richie expected to  _ not  _ be in a constant state of arousal when Eddie fucking Kaspbrak was walking around in tight-fitting t-shirts and tiny little jean shorts and  _ overalls? _ He was still stealing Richie’s band t-shirts, now tucking them into high-waisted jeans or slim fit chinos. He’d let his hair grow out a little and it always looked so wavy and  _ soft _ and Richie itched to run his fingers through it constantly. One time, Richie had even come home to find Eddie in just an oversized hoodie, black boxers and his stupid white socks with the blue and red stripe. He’d quickly excused himself to the bathroom to shower to get himself out of what would have otherwise been a horribly awkward boner situation for both of them.

All horniness aside, Richie was genuinely proud of Eddie for starting to come out of his shell now that he wasn’t living under his mother’s scrutinising thumb. For all his talk these past couple of years about wanting to let loose, the boy was finally starting to do it. It started in small ways – wearing what he wanted, eating what he wanted, decorating their apartment as he pleased. There was some weird, abstract painting hanging on their living room wall that Richie could not have cared less for, but Eddie liked it and Richie’s heart swelled seeing Eddie so excited about something as insignificant as a few splashes of paint on a canvas, so he’d let him bring it home and gush over for the next thirty minutes. Soon enough, though, Eddie had been dragging Richie down the streets of Manhattan, pointing out tattoo parlours, saying that one day he’d get over his fear of needles and wanted a sleeve. Richie thought he was joking, mostly, but it was still great to see Eddie making decisions for himself about his own life. He’d borrowed his boss’ navy blue nail polish and taught himself how to paint nails by practicing on Richie, who didn’t mind being Eddie’s guinea pig. He’d encouraged Richie when he expressed an interest in getting his ears or nose pierced or his hair dyed. He hadn’t mentioned skinny dipping or whatever usual weird shit he liked to bring up when talking about letting loose, but it was still something and Richie was still proud of him.

The most extravagant thing Richie had done was purchase a leather jacket, but he still wore it over his crazy shirts so he looked like a bit of a dweeb. Eddie had laughed the first time he saw it, though, eyes crinkling as he shook his head fondly, so Richie didn’t care in the slightest. He was far too busy with work and college at the moment to think about having fun again. He sort of felt like he was still in nineteen ninety-two, working his ass off to save money for him and Eddie to get away from Derry and studying his ass off to impress college admissions with his stellar GPA and abundance of AP subjects. Richie had done both of those things, was living that life now. Yet, he’d thrown himself right back in the deep end as soon as classes started, joining one of Tisch’s clubs that did little performances every month and bigger shows at the end of each semester, taking on a full load of courses even though he had the option to underload if he wanted. Summer had been fucking amazing, seeing Green Day and Metallica and Aerosmith play  _ live _ thanks to Eddie. Richie had very nearly kissed him during that festival, overwhelmed with so much happiness, adrenaline and dopamine running high in his system, driving him even crazier than he usually felt around Eddie. But after they’d explored the city for the twentieth time, after the rush from the concert dissipated, once they both got jobs and classes began and the grind started again, Richie got busy, and it was so  _ boring. _

He missed his friends. Eddie was also stressed and burnt out from college and work and Richie didn’t quite feel comfortable around his new friends at Tisch to talk about anything other than the classes they shared, throwing around his usual inappropriate jokes, although they were less well received by people who weren’t the Losers. That was a bit disheartening, but Richie took it in his stride, determined to find topics that he could make fun of to get a genuine laugh out of Alex and Lily. Eddie hadn’t seemed to mind when Richie mentioned the gay thing, but that didn’t really matter because he wasn’t planning to come out to him any time soon. It also didn’t matter because apparently Eddie was the only boy he’d been into for at least five years, so maybe he wasn’t… bisexual, maybe he was just Eddie-sexual. Whatever, it didn’t matter right now. 

Right now he had half an hour between his class and Eddie’s class ending, during which time he had to duck into the Chick-Fil-A on the way to grab them some lunch before they headed to Walmart where Eddie worked to finish their Thanksgiving shopping. It was only about a five minute walk from Tisch to NYU Arts & Science, but around lunchtime the sandwich shop was always insanely busy and usually had Richie waiting in line for ages. Standing in the queue, he checked his watch, bouncing up and down on his toes restlessly. He flashed a charming smile at the girl behind the counter when he got to the front, taking note of the  _ Martia _ on her nametag. He and Eddie frequented this place and Richie knew he’d remember such a stunning girl, so she must have just started working here. Grilled wrap for Eddie and a spicy sandwich for himself in hand, Richie made his way around the corner to where Eddie would be coming out of class in a few minutes, lighting up a cigarette while he walked.

Students poured out of the doors at 2pm on the dot, Richie’s eyes scanning the crowd intently for Eddie. He spotted him walking out and chatting with one of his friends that Richie had seen him hanging around before. The guy had just about the most beautiful, smooth skin he’d ever seen in his life and Richie chuckled, wondering if Eddie had befriended him to dig through his brain for a skincare routine.

“Rich!” Eddie waved at him, bidding his friend goodbye and walking over with a bright smile across his face. His eyes zeroed in on the bag in Richie’s hand. “Is that food? I’m fucking starving.”

Richie grinned back, pulling Eddie’s wrap out. “It is indeed, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie dug into his food as they started walking. “Oh, shit, that’s good,” he practically groaned around his bite. “Thank you, you’re my fuckin’ hero, Rich.”

Richie asked Eddie about his class as they made their way back to the train station to head to the Walmart superstore in Bushwick. Psychology statistics honestly sounded boring as fuck and Richie was as glad as ever that he had the option to take higher level math courses for the compulsory part of his degree. They arrived at Union Square Station and Richie stepped ahead of Eddie to open all the doors and push their way through the crowd. The subway wasn’t too busy, thankfully, but all the seats were taken, so Richie reached up to hold onto the handrail, feeling Eddie’s hand slip into the crook of his other elbow for balance.

“Y’know, I saw something cool today,” Richie said. “There’s gonna be a, uh, monthly open mic night for stand-up at The Ponyboy that they’re starting in January. I heard about it the other day and I’ve been thinkin’ about trying to write some shit down to try out.”

Eddie hummed positively. “Sounds cool. One question, though: do you intend to use me as your guinea pig? Because I’ve got to tell you, listening to your improvised trash talking on the regular is already pretty exhausting and if I’m to endure constant repeats and recitals, I’m gonna need some form of payment.”

“Tryna get me to pimp myself out to you, Eds?”

“What the fuck, Richie? No, just do some fucking chores and learn how to cook something that isn’t fucking spaghetti because that joke is old and so not funny.”

“Anymore,” Richie corrected.

“No, it was never fuckin’ funny. If that’s the kind of shit you’re going to say at open mic night, you’ll be booed off the stage within five minutes.”

“See, this is why I need to run things by you. Gotta have my Spaghetti’s approval.” Eddie pinched Richie’s bicep where his hand was positioned and Richie squeaked. “Ow!”

“I’m not yours, dipshit.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Eds.”

“Shut up and don’t call me that or I’ll leave you on the subway to rot and you’ll have to find your own way home,” Eddie threatened.

“You’d never leave me to meander the streets of New York alone. I’ll get lost and you’ll never see me again.”

“You’d actually just end up in Liberty Park near the cemetery.” Eddie paused. “On second thoughts, nevermind. You’re a walking disaster and would somehow end up dead yourself.”

Richie let go of the handrail to clutch at his heart. “You would save me from being haunted by ghosts? Eds, I never knew you cared.”

Letting go proved to be a huge mistake because the train lurched as they reached the next stop and Richie knocked into Eddie, sending them both to the floor, Eddie letting out an unamused huff and Richie breaking into laughter.

“This is disgusting. Get the fuck off me, asshole!” Richie snickered and pushed himself to his feet, extending his hand, at which Eddie scoffed, but begrudgingly took to be pulled up. “I hate you,” Eddie said.

“You do not. Not in the slightest.”

Watching Eddie try to keep the sour expression on his face when his lips quirked and threatened to pull into a smile was the best thing Richie had seen all day.

Walmart was busy, which they should have expected since it was the day before Thanksgiving, and Eddie was huffing and groaning about the number of people surrounding them and the fact that everything they needed would likely be sold out because of how last minute they were doing their shopping. He was partially correct. They only had a couple of things to grab to finish off the traditional Thanksgiving dinner Eddie had planned – neither of them had sat down with for a family dinner of turkey, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie in years. Richie was probably nine years old the last time his parents had bothered to do a proper Thanksgiving dinner, and he knew Sonia always butchered the traditional feast for the Kaspbraks when Eddie’s aunts came over from Boston and New Jersey and wherever else those wretched women came from.

Richie had two jobs tomorrow night: make mashed potatoes and steam green beans. The two easiest things on Eddie’s extensive list of food that would give them leftovers for the next two fucking weeks, yet somehow, he still felt horribly nervous thinking about it. He’d watched Eddie make mash several times before and steaming vegetables surely had to be the simplest way to cook them, and he was sweating.

“Russet potatoes are the best for making mash,” Eddie was saying, index finger scanning along the aisle as they walked through the fruit and vegetable section of the store. “The starch content is what does it. Normal white potatoes are too waxy and require much more effort to make into a creamy mash, and god knows you have no upper arm strength.”

“Here I am, trying to help you out with dinner, and you’re fucking goin’ to town with the insults. I’m starting to think you like me or something.”

Eddie scoffed, taking his time selecting a few large potatoes. “Please. As if I would ever like you. You change your underwear twice a week.”

“Hey! It saves on washing!” Richie held out the basket for Eddie to put the potato bag in. “Be happy I don’t milk four days out of every pair.”

“You’re disgusting and I hate you.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that this afternoon, Spagheds. Starting to sound like a broken record  _ and _ a lovesick pup.”

Eddie smacked Richie on the arm and pointed at the beans. “Shut up, get a bag and fill it with those.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n Kaspbrak.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooh, that’s a little sexy.”

“If it’s coming out of your trash talking gob, it’s anything but sexy.”

“Better be careful. Your insults are starting to turn me on, Eds.”

“Just put the fucking beans in the bag.”

“That supposed to be a euphemism for your dick or somethin’?”

“That’s a big word, Rich, don’t strain yourself too much.”

Richie grinned. “I fucking love you, man.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get on with it.”

Somehow, miraculously, Richie did not burn the potatoes or overcook the beans, and they actually ended up with a reasonably tasty Thanksgiving dinner. Richie had snagged a bottle of wine from one of his older coworkers and poured both himself and Eddie a lavish glass, hand behind his back like a true gentleman, while Eddie carved the turkey.

“Since when do you drink wine?” Eddie asked, examining the bottle. “Pinot noir? You know that’s literally the opposite of sweet, right?”

“Well, some little angry munchkin told me dry red wine goes well with turkey, so dry red wine I acquired.”

“You’re going to hate it.”

“But you’re going to love it, and that’s good enough for me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, a soft flush rising to his cheeks. “Why are you such a sap?”

“You bring out the worst in me, Eds.”

“Shut up. Let’s just have a nice dinner, okay?”

Richie conceded with a theatrical sigh. He lifted his glass. “Let us be grateful for the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. Marcel Proust, my man.”

Eddie was watching him with some kind of wonder. “You know who that is?”

“Only one of the greatest writers of the early twentieth century, my dear Eds.”

A small, gentle smile crept up on Eddie’s face and he reached out with the hand not holding his wine to squeeze Richie’s forearm. “Real life isn’t always going to be perfect or go our way, but the recurring acknowledgment of what is working in our lives—” Eddie gripped Richie’s arm again, “—can help us not only to survive but surmount our difficulties.”

Richie’s brows pinched together, reaching up to place his hand over Eddie’s. “Who was that?”

“Sarah Ban Breathnach. Author.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is. And very true. Richie, I…” Eddie’s tongue darted out to swipe across his lips, Richie’s eyes following the movement intently. “A few years ago, I was certain I was going to be stuck in Derry with my mother until the day I died. If you hadn’t convinced me to run away with you, I don’t think I would have had the courage to do it on my own and I’d probably still be there, living at home, going to UMaine like she wanted.”

“Eddie, give yourself some credit. You’re so much braver than—”

“God, do you ever shut up? Let me finish, Rich, please.” Richie nodded. “It’s Thanksgiving and I’m trying to say thank you, dickhead. I’m thankful for that day when you asked me to do this with you. I’m thankful for being the one you asked. You could have had anyone. You could have asked Bev or Stan or Bill but… you asked me. I’m thankful that I have you for a best friend. I’m thankful for you, in general. Thank you for giving me the push I needed to get myself, to get  _ us, _ out of there, Richie. Now, please don’t start crying. I can see your eyes, dipshit. C’mere.”

Eddie let go of Richie’s arm to reach up and brush his thumb under the rim of his glasses, wiping away the tears before they fell from his wet eyes. He pushed Richie’s glasses onto his head and grabbed a napkin from the centre of the table to dab at the corner of his eyes.

“Jesus, Eds.” Richie’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat hastily, swatting Eddie’s hand away. “You don’t have to wipe my freakin’ tears away. I’m a big boy, y’know?”

“I know. You just cry so much and it… it breaks my heart a little.”

“Eddie…”

“Shut up. Beep beep. Don’t say anything and forget this entire exchange ever happened.”

The corners of Richie’s lips curved up. “You got it, Mr K.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.” They tapped their glasses together and Eddie swirled his around to take a sniff of the wine, Richie going right in and taking a sip. “Jesus fuck, that’s nasty!”

Eddie snickered. “What did I say?” He took a sip from his own glass and hummed. “Dry as all hell and fucking delicious.”

“You’re a masochist, you know that?”

“Eh, more of a sadist actually.”

Richie’s eyes widened almost comically. “Eddie Spaghetti! Oh my god! What would your mother say?”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s never gonna see me again.”

“Fuck yeah. We did it, Eds. We fuckin’ did it.” Richie held up his glass again.

Eddie grinned. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, and they finally dug into their food.

Richie could not remember why Eddie wasn’t able to come out tonight because all his memories of the night they had a blackout were overridden by the feeling of Eddie’s warm skin pressed against his as they cuddled for warmth. A strange part of his brain tried to tell him that Eddie had a date, but Richie knew that was ridiculous because Eddie had never expressed any interest in any girl before in his life and  _ surely _ he would want to tell Richie, his best friend, all about any girl he’d met at school or work or wherever. Not that Richie would really want to hear about it.

Whatever. He was going out with his friends tonight and he was going to have fun and maybe get laid and not think about the fact that he was still fucking in love with his best friend.

Richie, donned in all black save for his ridiculous spotted shirt, along with Alex and Lily, made it to the underground club as planned. Alex gushed over Richie’s meticulously done black nail polish, crediting Eddie of course, while Lily ordered them mocktails. Bon Jovi was playing through the sound system and Richie was just starting to get into it when Lily’s brother appeared and slipped something into her purse. She grinned at Alex and Richie, downing the rest of her virgin pina colada, led them out of the building and down the street, giggling as she showed them the fake IDs her brother had procured for the three of them.

That was how they ended up at a real club with real alcohol. The floor was sticky the moment they stepped inside, the dark, dusty entrance hall full of people kissing and grinding obscenely. Lily’s hand was in Alex’s, who was holding onto Richie’s as they walked through in a line, not wanting to lose each other in the haze and heat of the club. Lily led them up to the bar and ordered two rounds of shots, clinking their glasses together and knocking the first round back immediately. The harsh liquid burned Richie’s insides, a pleasant buzz already spreading throughout his body as the girls went to down the next one, but his breath hitched when he laid eyes on two boys all over each other on the dance floor.

Well, this was an experience and a fucking half.

Alex and Lily knocked back their shots and left Richie at the bar as they went to dance, bodies molding together seamlessly. Watching them make out so openly was somehow shocking, arousing and encouraging all at the same time. Richie watched with wonder how no one batted an eyelid, not at the girls and not at the boys, from whom Richie honestly could not have torn his eyes away, trying to ignore his jeans tightening slightly. Maybe not just Eddie-sexual, then. He ordered himself another drink and knocked it back, the body heat and thumping music in his ears drowning out the nervous beating of his heart as he slipped behind Alex to dance with his friends. Richie soon felt someone’s back pressed against his and he turned his head, eyes widening when they landed on a frankly gorgeous boy with smooth, lightly tanned skin and a jawline that rivaled Richie’s. His dark eyes were framed by eyeliner and Richie realised after a second that it was one of the boys he was watching before.

“Like something you see, hot stuff?” the guy asked, quirking an eyebrow. Richie felt a little out of his depth here. Talking and flirting with girls was easy, second nature by now, something he was used to. But this boy, this fucking stunning boy in a tight, sparkling t-shirt and even tighter black jeans, was leaning into his space as Richie turned his whole body to face him, heart thundering against his chest that felt like it would burst open at any moment. The boy leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, “Saw you watching before.”

Richie swallowed and mentally slapped himself.  _ Come on, Tozier. _ He could do flirting. If he could just open his fucking mouth. This had literally never been a problem before.

The guy reached up to fiddle with Richie’s glasses and run his hand through his messy hair, fingers getting caught on a knot and tugging slightly, making Richie lean instinctively into the touch. A smirk played at the guy’s lips, eyes darting down to Richie’s mouth, which was hanging slightly agape with wonder.

“How could I not?” Richie finally replied, bringing his own hands to rest on the guy’s hips. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing, just trying to let his mouth speak for him like it always did and letting the alcohol guide his movement. “You’re just so fucking pretty.”

“It’s the eyeliner, isn’t it? Guys can never resist it.”

“Like that guy before? Not your boyfriend then?” The boy shook his head, untangling his fingers from Richie’s hair and trailing them down his face, neck, and chest. Richie’s breath caught in his throat when the guy’s fingers brushed against his nipple through his shirt. “ _ Oh my god, _ ” he whispered, breaking eye contact in favour of watching the boy’s hand drift lower and lower.

Something about that reaction must have given him away, because the boy quirked an eyebrow again. “You done this before?” Richie’s eyes snapped back up to meet his, widening slightly, and the boy smirked again, harder this time, and spun around in Richie’s arms, pressing his back  _ and his ass _ against him.

“Fuck.” Richie instinctively gripped his hips tighter and he heard the boy chuckle.

He turned back around to face Richie and leaned in. “Just needed that confirmation, hot stuff.”

“Richie.”

“ _ Richie. _ You want me to moan your name like that while you fuck me?”

Richie nearly choked.

Holy fucking shit.

That was it. He was speechless. He’d officially lost all claim to the title Trashmouth. Richie was being beaten at his own game by this guy. This insanely hot guy in a sparkly t-shirt and eyeliner who was grinding against him and kissing his neck and how the fuck did his night turn out like this? This guy, who was now dragging him off the dance floor towards the bathrooms, locking them in a stall and dropping to his knees and fucking fuck  _ fuck fuck— _

Richie found out in the middle of getting a fucking blowjob that the guy’s name was Anton, and then afterward learned Anton also went to NYU, lived off-campus with his sister, and had seen Richie around once or twice, maybe in passing, maybe on stage, but had been attracted to him immediately. Richie was still baffled at the fact that random people found him attractive, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when the guy’s tongue was down his throat.

Alex and Lily bombarded Richie with questions when he found them outside the club an hour later but he brushed them off, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice his cheeks reddening as he thought about what he’d just been doing. They must have seen the two of them dancing or leaving the dance floor or something, because the knowing smirk Lily was giving him just made him blush even more.

Richie got home after midnight and found Eddie on the couch, asleep. The television was on and Eddie had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, head lolled to the side against a cushion, one leg tucked under him and one dangling off the couch. Richie’s lips curved into a soft smile as he switched off the TV and scooped Eddie up in his arms, heart rate increasing when Eddie nuzzled into his neck and wrapped his arms around him.

“Richie?” Eddie slurred.

“No, I’m a burglar who decided you were too cute to steal from because you stole my heart first and now I’m tucking you into bed.”

Eddie giggled sleepily. “You’re crazy.”

“For you, sweetheart, always,” Richie whispered, pressing his lips to Eddie’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about new york subways or thanksgiving, and I went to the US when I was 16 and have been inside a walmart exactly two times, so pls forgive any inaccuracies on all those accounts
> 
> ANYWAY I hope everyone is staying safe and washing ur hands. Being stuck at home might give me more time to write now, we’ll see. Thank u again for sticking around <333


	13. It just sort of came out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1994. Richie and Eddie make some long-time-coming confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few warnings for this chapter. Panic attack; not too long or detailed, but it’s there. And underage drinking resulting in sexual happenings, once again, because these boys are fuckin dumb okay

In the midst of work and class and rehearsals, Richie almost forgot how much he missed the Losers. He’d been in the bedroom, getting ready for class, throwing his books into his backpack and shrugging on his orange sweater that Eddie gave him one Christmas that he sometimes whipped out when it was cold but the sun was still shining through. That was when his eyes landed on the photos on the wall above their beds, his heart clenching with sadness when he realised he hadn’t seen or spoken to his friends in nearly six months.

He’d made new friends, of course – Richie prided himself on the fact that he could talk to anyone and never felt shy going up to strangers – but that didn’t make the loss of his childhood friends any less painful. He and Alex had made half-baked plans to get lunch or something today after class, maybe to meet up with their other friends, he wasn’t quite sure, but there was still space in his heart that his idiot friends from Derry would always hold, and that space was heartbreakingly empty now.

Richie had met Alex Beard in the first week of college in his theatre studies class. Something he noticed immediately about Alex was the way her strange humour landed awkwardly on the table when she tried to make a joke. People didn’t get her humour. That was something Richie certainly understood, so he tried talking to her and he laughed at her lame jokes and found out what music she liked (musicals, surprise surprise) and poked and prodded until she began to open up and initiate conversations with him. Something he shared with Alex was the need to throw in a self-deprecating joke every now and then, just to let everyone know that, as much as he talked himself up, all comedians hated themselves on the inside. Alex laughed when he explained that and Richie took great pride in watching her throw her head back, green eyes shining with joy.

Then Alex mentioned an ex-girlfriend and Richie’s lungs nearly flew out of his body through his throat. He tried to coax information out of her, like how she knew she liked girls, who she’d come out to, if her parents or friends knew, and Richie was slightly disappointed to learn that she’d had a relatively easy experience. She’d grown up with an accepting family, two sisters with whom she always bickered but loved her just as hard, and her parents came around rather quickly when she told them she was dating a girl in high school. Richie wondered how his parents would have reacted if he told them he was in love with his male best friend. Wentworth might have killed him, but he had no idea what Maggie might have done. Richie really shouldn’t have been thinking about the people he left in Derry so often or he was going to drive himself insane.

Then he’d met Lily Denning, who described herself as a butch, top lesbian when she shook Richie’s hand for the first time in their intro to theatre production lecture and he nearly choked on his mocha. What a way to make an entrance; Richie almost started taking notes. He sort of wanted to ask her how the fuck a lesbian could be a top, but decided to file that information away for another day, maybe when they knew each other a little better. Lily was loud. She talked through that entire lecture about how she wanted to cut her hair off and truly live up to her self-proclaimed title, even though her hair was already pretty short, possibly even shorter than Richie’s, pulled up into a frizzy, dirty blonde ponytail. Continuing his endeavour to understand how other queer people existed so freely, Richie prompted Lily to talk about her family and hometown over lunch one day and holy fuck, the girl nearly talked _his_ ear off. She really was giving him a run for his money.

Richie wondered how he managed to surround himself with so many gay people once Anton started hanging out with him between classes, as well. The four of them made a cute little gay group of friends, but Richie sometimes felt like he was lying to them when his eyes strayed from their table to watch a group of girls walk past or how his heart plummeted whenever Alex talked about her sister named Emily. Like today, when he and Alex were standing in line at Chick-Fil-A to pick up some food for Lily and Anton, who they were in fact meeting later, and Richie was preoccupied staring at the cute cashier, Martia, who he sometimes flirted with when he was here alone or with Eddie, but now couldn’t find it in himself to say anything because Alex knew about him and Anton and he didn’t want anyone knowing the truth, too scared to find out how they’d react. Somehow, he was in a predicament that was exactly the same, yet vastly different, from what he had to deal with in Derry.

They placed their takeaway orders and stood to the side of the counter, Richie making sure to face away from Martia in case she tried to talk to him. Alex had been going on and on about her friends from high school not all being able to make it home for Christmas break.

“Even Courtney is coming and she’s bringing one of her roommates with her because they’re sleeping together and _they_ live in fucking Idaho, yet my ex, who we all still love and want to see, won’t haul his ass across one fucking border to get to Michigan! Not even for one—”

“Your ex?”

“Yeah, Ethan. He’s saying some bullshit about his new girlfriend who—”

“You like boys, too?”

Alex stopped and turned to Richie, brows creased on her forehead. “Yeah? Haven’t I mentioned that before?”

Richie’s bottom lip quivered. “No. I’d remember. Y-You…” His eyes widened, lips parting to suck in a deep breath. “I’ve never met someone like me before,” he whispered.

“Oh, you’re bi, too?” Richie just nodded, and Alex seemed to understand that this was difficult for him, because she stepped forward and reached out to wrap an arm around his middle, pulling him into her side. “Welcome to the club, Tozier. And welcome to New York, where we can date whoever the fuck we want and no one really cares.”

Richie huffed out a laugh, mouth pulling into a smile. “Man, you’d be a catch. Wish I’d known this before I hooked you up with Lils. We could’ve been a power couple.”

Alex wrinkled her nose. “You’re not my type, Rich.”

“‘Scuse you. Funny guys are everyone’s type. I’ve had people falling at my feet for years, practically begging to get a piece of this.”

“Well, I’m begging you to stop now,” Alex laughed. “Hey, that cute register girl has been staring at you for ages.”

“Oh, yeah. I come here all the time and woo her with my charm and stellar personality. She’s probably wondering why I’m ignoring her today.”

Alex snorted. “Dark hair and tanned skin. _You_ have a type, Tozier. She looks just like Anton.”

 _And Eddie,_ his mind so helpfully supplied. Coming out was one thing, one hurdle hard enough to get over; he didn’t need to think about coming clean about Eddie as well. Thinking about how Stan knew and tried to get him to tell Eddie was enough to make Richie keep his mouth shut on the subject a little longer.

And thinking about Stan led to thinking about Beverly and all the rest of them that he missed so much. Richie fell quiet again and he hated how unlike himself he’d been feeling recently. He knew the move would be difficult, knew leaving The Losers behind was going to be heartbreaking, definitely knew why Eddie had been keen to distance himself from them all those months ago because now Richie’s chest ached. Even just to talk to one of them would be a blessing at this point. Alex and Lily and Anton were wonderful friends and Richie loved spending time with them, making them laugh, practising dialogue together and going out for lunch and all those things friends were supposed to do, but he missed doing them with Bill, Stan and Eddie, or with the whole group, all seven of them squashed into a booth at a diner or sprawled across Ben’s carpet with his head on Eddie’s lap while Mike read to them because god damn, he had one of those voices that Richie could fall asleep listening to.

It was one night when Eddie got home from work to a plate of overcooked vegetables and burnt chicken schnitzels that Richie decided to bring up this thing he’d been pondering over for weeks.

“What if we used a payphone to call them?” Richie asked.

Eddie poked at his food – Richie winced sympathetically at his substandard cooking – and shook his head. “No,” Eddie said firmly, not even needing to ask who Richie was talking about.

“But—”

“I said no, Richie. I can’t risk it. If my mom finds out where I am, I tell you, she will find a way to drag my ass back to Derry. I wouldn’t put it past her to hire a private investigator to scour New York until they found me, drugged me, and shipped me back home where she would tie me to my bed and spoon feed me until the day I die.”

“Y’know, when I imagined you being tied to your bed—”

“Beep beep. We’re not calling anyone. End of discussion.”

Richie huffed, annoyed, and turned back to his own plate, pushing a carrot around with his fork. “But what if it was just one of them, like Stan. Stan can keep a secret real good.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What did I say? End. Of. Discussion. We’re not calling anyone. The fact that you told Stan we were running away together is bad enough.”

“Okay, how about if we call not Stan and don’t tell them you’re with me?”

“Richie,” Eddie said, voice dropping in the way it only did when he was deadly serious, “If, let’s say, you call Mike’s place. Assuming he answers and not his grandparents, you tell him you’ve run away for college, you’re alone, living in the dorms, you don’t tell him where. But his phone can redial, so the phone number is stored in there somewhere, which means the call can be traced back to the city we’re in. And if Mike knows what city you’re in and says anything to the rest of them and Stan knows I’m with you, that means Stan knows where I am, too. And if Stan _ever_ let it slip that I am in New York… see above. I’m fucking screwed. So. No calling Mike, no calling anyone. End of discussion, Richie.” Eddie pushed his plate away and got up from the table, stalking off to their bedroom.

Richie was fuming. Eddie’s point was fair, but it was practically impossible for all of those things to happen, a fucking long shot at best. Jaw clenched, he got up to clear the table, tossing the leftover food in a container for the fridge. He went into their bedroom only to grab his notebooks, trying not to notice Eddie curled up on his own bed, facing away from the door. Richie went back to the kitchen table and spread his stuff out, fingers gripping his pen so tightly they started to hurt. He couldn’t concentrate on his homework, not when he was so riled up about Eddie’s ridiculous theories about how Sonia would find him. Richie suddenly had a thought, glancing at the calendar on the wall. Hanukkah fell on this weekend. Stan would be home with his family, Richie was sure of it. He’d always spent the weekends with them, sometimes even missing school for the whole week. There was no way Mr and Mrs Uris would have let him stay in Pennsylvania for Hanukkah.

Richie shut his books and checked his pockets for his wallet and keys, before leaving the apartment. He ran down all three flights of stairs and out of the building, looking around at the people glowing under streetlights. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d grabbed a coat, and began walking. The wind was a biting cold against his cheeks, it felt like it was thirty degrees outside, but Richie was always one to exaggerate. He kept walking the few blocks to the main shopping strip in Ridgewood, stopping when he came across a payphone. His fingers were shaking as he pressed the buttons on the phone, whether from the cold or from nerves, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t too late, but hopefully late enough that Stan’s parents would have retired to their bedroom already. The phone rang six times.

“Hello, Uris residence,” Stan’s hushed voice came through the phone and Richie very nearly broke down into tears. He choked out a wet, shaky noise, clutching the phone against his ear like he thought it might disappear and take Stan with it if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Richie was a little embarrassed – Stan must have recognised his voice from a single sob because then he said, “Richie? Oh my— is that you?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s me. Stan. _Stan._ It’s so good to hear your voice.” Six months was the longest time he’d ever gone without speaking to Stan, to any of them really, and they’d been best friends for fifteen years. His heart was thumping in his chest, eyes clenched shut to block out his other senses and just focus on Stan’s voice. “I fucking miss you, dude.”

“Fuck, I miss you too, Rich. Where are you?”

Richie shook his head. “Can’t tell. Eddie’ll kill me. He’s already fucking mad that I wanted to call in the first place.”

Stan was silent for a moment. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise. I’ll delete your number and won’t tell any of the others you called.” Richie heard him inhale a shaky breath. “I can’t believe you guys did it. What are you doing? Is Eddie in school? Are you both working? Shit, Rich, update me, come on. I need to know everything.”

Richie laughed. “We’re both in school, actually. I’m doing drama, he’s doing psych. At the same college. But we’re renting an apartment. It’s one fuckin’ bedroom cause N—this city is, uh, expensive as fuck.” Stan was quiet again, Richie’s heart hammering, hoping his slip up didn’t tip Stan off to their whereabouts. “I work at a music store. Eddie works at Walmart. There’s actually a Domino’s around the corner from our place that I might apply to. Drama is fuckin’ slack so I could probably handle two jobs.”

“I’m so happy for you, Richie,” Stan said, and Richie could hear him smiling. “I’m glad Eddie made it out of Derry. I was really worried about him staying here with his mom.”

“Yeah, me too. How about you? How’s the Ivy League treating ya?”

“God, it’s tough. I’m doing well in half my classes and nearly fucking failing the others. There’s so much work and everyone is _so_ competitive, you have no idea.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have time for a job, then.”

“I’ve no freaking time to do anything. Some of the professors are already talking about internships, which seems promising, but that’s still a couple of years away.” Stan paused. “Do you, um, do you think you’re going to tell him? Eddie, I mean. You know…”

Richie inhaled sharply. “There’s nothing to tell, Staniel,” he said, hoping that if he told himself it often enough that it would become true. He tried not to think about Eddie wandering around the apartment in boxers and Richie’s band t-shirts. “I am so over that, now. I actually, uh—” Richie cleared his throat, “I sort of sucked off a dude in the bathroom of a club the other day.”

“What the fuck? Why do I need to know that?”

“Because! You’re the only one who knows I’m… fuckin’, y’know…”

“You can say the word, Rich, it’s not going to bite you.”

Richie swallowed, whispered, “I’ve never said it out loud.” He heard Stan sigh softly on the other end of the line. Richie wanted to change the subject. He hated talking about this, even though it was starting to become hard to avoid with the whole Anton _and_ Eddie situation. “Bi...sexual. Bisexual. Fucking half gay. _Shit._ ” He rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses on top of his head.

“Richie Tozier,” Stan said, “I am so fucking proud of you. And… And you know what? I’m going to tell you something.” Stan’s voice dropped in both volume and tone and Richie could practically hear him chewing on his bottom lip.

“You’re gonna get chapped lips you keep doin’ that shit.” Richie chuckled when Stan huffed.

“I… I might be sort of, too.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up. “Half gay?”

Stan groaned. “I don’t know. Kind of. I feel like it’s completely different to you, though. I freaking hate Derry. Such closed-minded bullshit people.”

“Tell me about it,” Richie scoffed. “Why the fuck do you think Eddie and I were so eager to leave? New York is fucking amazing.” Richie blinked. “ _Fuck._ ”

Stan sighed. “I didn’t hear anything, I promise.”

Richie held his breath for a long time, running a hand through his hair. “Shit. Thanks, Stan The Man. I fucking owe you one. Eddie’s gonna kick my ass if he finds out I called you at all, let alone fuckin’ gave away our location.” He let out a deep breath and slipped his glasses back on. “I should go, actually. He’s gonna wonder where I ran off to otherwise. Probably kick my ass anyway for being out late all alone or something stupid.”

“He… he cares about you, Rich, you know that, right?”

“Et tu, Staniel? Seriously?” Richie scoffed. “You and Bev are the fucking same. Eddie’s not a fucking freak like me, okay?”

“If you’re a freak for liking a boy, then I guess that makes me a freak, too.”

“That’s not helping your case. Wait, you like a boy?” Richie gasped, kind of for show and kind of because he was actually surprised. “Stanley! Who is it?”

“Shut up. We’re not talking about me. Just…” Stan sighed dramatically. “ _Talk_ to Eddie, please.”

“Ah, no can do, ma good lad, for there’s nothin’ to talk about, I’m afraid.”

“Good to know college is doing fuck all for you. Your accents are as shocking as ever.”

“Tally-ho, dear lad. I must be off!”

“You’re mixing English and Scottish now, Rich.”

“Zip it, Uris.” Richie dropped the Voice. “I dunno when I’ll be able to call again. Could be another six months.”

“It’s okay,” Stan said, voice soft around the edges in a way that warmed Richie’s heart.

“You’ll survive without me, somehow.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Stan drawled.

Richie chuckled. “I’ve fuckin’ missed that classic Stanley Uris deadpan. Anyway, good luck with your classes, in case I don’t speak to you until summer. And… I love you, dude. Like, a freakin’ lot.”

This time Stan chuckled, gently, fondly. “I love you, too, Richie.”

The moment Richie hung up the phone, his eyes welled up with tears again. God, Eddie was right; he was always fucking crying.

When he got home, the apartment was quiet and dark. Eddie had probably fallen asleep. Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, Richie noted it was after ten and Eddie had an early start tomorrow, so he tiptoed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash warm water on his face. As he crossed the hall to the bedroom, though, he saw the soft, yellow glow of what must have been Eddie’s bedside lamp poking out from under the closed door. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, making a beeline for his bed. He took his glasses off and slipped under the covers, hoping that if Eddie did decide to talk to him, not being able to see him would make it easier to lie. He was wrong.

“Where have you been? It’s late and cold. You could have gotten sick.”

Richie shrugged. “Just needed a walk.” Eddie was silent for a moment and part of Richie wondered if he was actually going to let it go and go back to bed. But of course, Richie could never be that lucky.

“You… You didn’t. You _didn’t._ Tell me you did not, Richie.”

“I did not, whatever you’re talking about, I didn’t do it.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Eddie sat up and turned to Richie. He could feel his glare on the side of his head. “Why don’t you fucking listen!? This could ruin everything!”

Richie snarled, grabbing his glasses and whipping around to face Eddie. “Don’t be such an uptight little bitch, Eddie. Nothing is going to happen! It’s not like the Losers _talk_ to your mom.”

The anger in Eddie’s eyes dimmed, but his lip still curled as he spat out his next words. “You’re un- _fucking_ -believable.” Eddie switched off the lamp and turned around to face the wall, leaving Richie sitting up, staring at the back of his head.

Great.

They were fighting again.

* * *

The thing was, Eddie knew he was overreacting. He did that a lot. Overreact. Knowing this fact was halfway there to actually doing something about it, but Eddie was nothing if not stubborn. So, he’d continue to ignore Richie, pick up extra shifts at work to avoid him, make snide comments in passing about betrayal and not being trustworthy and all that other bullshit he liked to pull when Richie was being especially shitty. Eddie was sort of glad he’d gotten over his stupid crush on Richie, otherwise fighting with him would have been a hundred times more painful, maybe even driving him to ignore his friend completely for five months again.

No, that was really stupid. They couldn’t do that. They _lived_ together now, for fuck’s sake. Thinking about that, Eddie realised he’d have to apologise eventually, even though Richie was definitely the one who started it this time, because _okay_ maybe he was being a bit (a lot) of a drama queen and maybe his heart also ached when he saw the photos of their friends up on the wall and maybe he really fucking wanted to call Bill and gush to him about how amazing New York was and how happy he was to be in college, and maybe he wanted to squeal to Beverly about the cute boy he was sort of dating because if any of them wouldn’t give a shit about Eddie being gay, it would be her. And maybe he wanted to show off his car to Mike and Ben and his decorative, colour-coordinated study schedule to Stan. Maybe he felt a twinge of envy towards Richie for getting to speak to one of them, probably Stan, he’d guess.

At the moment, however, Eddie had more pressing things to think about that had literally nothing to do with Richie and more to do with the fucking sinful way Ryan was looking at him from across the table where they were studying in the library. He had another two weeks to patch things up with Richie before the Christmas party they’d already agreed to attend, and Ryan’s bedroom eyes were catching his attention right now, dragging his thoughts away from his textbook and shifting them to something a little steamier than significance tests and confidence intervals.

Eddie put his pen down and leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand. “What’s that face for?” he asked, like he didn’t already know, like his dick wasn’t already twitching with interest at the thought of where the rest of today might be headed. He picked up his takeaway coffee cup and sipped it, feigning innocence.

Ryan’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip and Eddie chuckled, because he did the same thing when he was the one asking for something. A soft, deep flush rose to Ryan’s cheeks. “Just thinking about your ass,” he said, causing Eddie to choke on his drink. He spluttered and this time Ryan chuckled.

It wasn’t much, but Eddie still wasn’t used to hearing anyone talk about him like that in a serious manner, especially not in the middle of NYU’s fucking library. It sometimes made him laugh, thinking about how shy both of them were the first time they kissed or touched each other, but now, months later, Ryan had this confidence about him, wasn’t afraid in voicing what he wanted, although it was usually in the dark in his bedroom. Sometimes Eddie wondered why they still hadn’t discussed actually being boyfriends. They clearly liked each other, always wanted to jump each other’s bones. They were studying similar things and worked well together as a team, making sure they were always on top of their homework and keeping up in class. They even went out on dates, usually ending with their hands or mouths on each other, but sometimes just cuddling on Ryan’s bed after a movie or walking around the city after dinner, looking up at all the bright lights and billboards.

Eddie pulled a packet of tissues from his bag to clean the spilled coffee on his face. Ryan’s expression had softened slightly and Eddie wondered if he was still thinking about his ass or if he was maybe thinking about the fact that there had been sweeter kisses and hand-holding between class and probably more spooning than was normal for friends-with-benefits-who-liked-each-other. Eddie didn’t even know what to call them. He’d only seen Ryan flirting with other boys a handful of times in recent weeks and Eddie had stopped making out with chemistry boy and a guy he’d met while running track a few weeks back, so maybe they were unofficially exclusive. Maybe he’d take Ryan up on whatever offer he was about to propose and then ask him to be his boyfriend, officially.

He quickly packed up his things and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning, giving Ryan a nice view of his jean-clad behind. “You coming or what?” Ryan scrambled to throw his books into his own bag and followed Eddie out of the building. 

Eddie arrived back at the apartment a couple of hours earlier than expected when Ryan’s roommate decided to walk in on them half-naked and making out and then launch into a homophobic rant about tainting their dorm room. Eddie had excused himself very quickly, Ryan ushering him out and rambling off apology after apology. They agreed to meet up in the evening when his roommate would be out again, and Eddie had headed home.

He had no idea if Richie would be there or not, but discovered very quickly that he was.

And that Richie was busy.

Eddie tossed his keys on the kitchen bench and ran a hand through his hair, windswept from walking from the subway to their apartment building. He made a beeline for the kettle to make himself a coffee, grabbing his usual mug from the cupboard, when he heard a thump from the bedroom.

“Oh, _fuck._ ”

Eddie froze. That was Richie’s voice.

Eddie’s heart started thundering against his ribcage. He knew that sound. He’d _made_ that sound.

He needed to get out of here _now._

But then Richie _moaned._

“Shit, _shit,_ oh my god, do that again.”

Eddie’s breath got stuck in his throat and his fingers slipped, dropping his mug. It fell to the floor almost in slow motion, his arm reaching out to try to catch it, but it smashed on the tiles, the crash echoing throughout the room.

He heard scrambling and more things bumping around as he cleaned up his mess, and then the bedroom door creaked open, Richie’s head of wild hair poking out, glasses askew on his face.

“Eddie? When the fuck did you get back?”

Richie slipped out of the room and closed the door, walked into the kitchen with his t-shirt on backwards and belt undone and Eddie could not have been more glad to be standing behind the counter, his lower half out of Richie’s view. Richie’s already full lips were red and swollen from kissing and there was a deep purple bruise poking out above his collarbone. This was so much worse than seeing Tammy Ferris in Richie’s lap or Emily Whiting’s hands maneuvering him as she pleased. Eddie swallowed.

“Uh,” he croaked, then cleared his throat and let his eyes fall away from Richie’s neck to look at the floor, at the couch, anywhere but Richie. “Like two minutes ago?”

“Oh,” Richie breathed, sounding relieved. “Did—Did you hear anything?”

Eddie could feel his cheeks heating up. “I-I heard you… talking.” He finally looked up at Richie, meeting his gaze. Richie was watching him almost apprehensively, eyes slightly wide like he was worried about something.

“Just me?” Richie pressed on.

“I mean, I, um, I gathered there’s some girl in there.” Richie’s shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh of relief. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Eddie’d walked in on him fucking around with some poor college girl who’d probably been subjected to his shitty jokes for the last however many days or weeks to get her into bed. It was bound to happen at some point, given that their shared space was so small. Eddie shrugged. “It’s fine, I just came back to, uh, grab some stuff. I’m going out now.”

Whatever weird interaction they’d just been having was obviously over, because Richie grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, and just like that he was back to his normal, obnoxious self. “You’re welcome to stay and watch if ya want, Eds,” he said with a wink.

Eddie groaned. “You’re disgusting. What would you do if anyone ever took you up on that offer?”

“I’d follow through with the goods, of course. Not enough New Yorkers know about Ten Inch Tozier yet.”

“Oh, and I bet they’re just dying to see it in person.”

“What, you’re not?” Richie teased.

“No, you’d like that too much. Besides, we’re supposed to be fighting.”

“Fighting’s overrated. I thought we said we were never fighting again.”

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re fighting because you’re a dickhead who doesn’t listen to reason.”

“Oh my god, Eddie, _listen_ to yourself. You’re— There’s no way— You know what, fucking forget it.” Richie swatted his hand in Eddie’s direction and turned to leave the room. “Just forget it.”

Eddie scoffed, knowing that trying to argue now would get him nowhere because Richie was clearly in some kind of immature mood and didn’t want to deal with confrontation. “Whatever,” he said, just as childishly, tossed out the broken pieces of his mug and let Richie get back to fucking his guest or whatever the hell he was doing before Eddie interrupted.

He decided to just head back to Manhattan, wasting the next few hours staring at his textbook with a coffee in hand at some random cafe near Ryan’s dorm building, periodically checking his watch until six, when he saw Ryan’s roommate exit the building.

Ryan kissed him as soon as the door was closed behind Eddie, getting all up in his space like he hadn’t just seen him four hours ago. Eddie sighed, letting himself be pressed against the door, letting the tension from earlier drain out of his muscles. They ended up back where they’d been earlier today, Ryan sitting back against the headboard and Eddie in his lap. Eddie wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, making out, all his focus and energy going into moving his lips and hands and eventually his hips. He was really supposed to be initiating an important conversation about dating, but he was a little preoccupied at the moment.

“Ryan,” Eddie breathed, pulling back from his neck and moving up to nibble at his ear. “Can we…” He trailed off, nerves coiling in a ball in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah? What is it?”

Eddie reached over to where his bag was sitting beside the bed and rummaged around for a few seconds, pulling a couple of things out and thrusting them into Ryan’s hands.

“Oh.” Ryan looked down, already nodding his head, bringing one hand up to grip Eddie’s hips. “Yes. Oh my god, Eddie, fuck yes.”

Eddie nodded back, moving off Ryan’s lap to settle on his thighs. “How would— Do you have a-a— I mean…” Ryan’s lips parted and the hand on Eddie’s hip slowly trailed further back, squeezing gently. Eddie nodded again. “Yeah, okay. But I’m gonna… do it myself.”

Ryan’s eyes widened marginally, murmuring, “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m so lucky,” before he surged forward to capture Eddie’s lips in a heated kiss. Eddie would have to file that away for later, whenever they did get around to having that conversation. But that could wait. Eddie had a few other things in mind for the time being.

When he woke up the next morning, the first thing of which Eddie was aware was how much his ass hurt. Jesus fucking Christ, if he and Ryan ever fucked again, they were fucking switching positions. The second thing he realised was that Ryan’s roommate never came home, thank goodness, or they would have had their asses kicked. Eddie rolled over and nuzzled into Ryan’s bare shoulder, snuggling further under the covers and revelling in the warmth between them.

He felt Ryan’s lips press against his forehead. “Mornin’, gorgeous.”

A smile crept up on Eddie’s face and he leaned into the touch. “Shut up,” he mumbled, before sitting up and gesturing for Ryan to do the same. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Ryan was watching him quizzically and Eddie could feel his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. “You know I like you. A lot. And I-I know you like me, so I was, um, I was wondering what you thought about… being my boyfriend?”

Ryan stared at him for a long moment, expression unchanging, and Eddie’s heart was doing fucking jump-rope in his chest. _Say something, say something, please._ Eddie sucked in a deep breath and was about to call the whole thing off, pull a Richie and just brush his emotions away in favour of making a joke because Jesus fuck, this was nerve wracking. Then Ryan opened his mouth.

“Eddie.” His voice was thick and he sounded regretful and Eddie’s heart sunk into his stomach. “Eddie, you’re right, I really do like you. I’m just… I’m still so scared. You’ve met my roommate. He’s a royal dickhead who thinks people like us are sick and wrong. And I know we’re not. But I… I don’t think I can do th-the whole _boyfriend thing._ Not now at least. I’m so sorry, Eddie. I-I really, really like you, I hope you know how much. I’m sorry. Please can we— Can we still do _this,”_ —He gestured between them— “Thing we’re doing. I don’t want this to stop, I just… can’t.”

Now it was Eddie’s time to stare at Ryan with a blank face, looking into his eyes like he could find some ounce of _I’m lying_ or _I’m kidding_ in his words, in his tone of voice, in the way his brows pinched together on his forehead. But he found nothing. Ryan just didn’t want him. For the first time in months, maybe years, Eddie’s hands clutched at his lower abdomen, searching blindly for his fanny pack because he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe and he needed his inhaler, he needed, he needed—

“Eddie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. What’s happening? Are you okay?”

Ryan sounded like they were sitting in a swimming pool, with water gushing into Eddie’s ears and blocking out the articulation of sounds. Muffled and far away and too close, too close all at once. Eddie sucked in a breath, wheezing, and scrambled out of bed, throwing his clothes on as fast as he could as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

He didn’t know how he made it home, what time it was or if he took the subway or called a cab or anything. He realised he was walking up the stairs to his apartment and he couldn’t get the key in the door because he couldn’t see because his eyes were full of tears and he banged his fist on the door and sobbed. He banged again and again, fist starting to hurt, and when he lifted his hand for the fourth time, the door opened and Eddie fell inside, knees digging into the carpet.

“Eds? Eddie, oh my god.”

Eddie’s head dropped, tilted down to the floor where his hands were clutching at the carpet in front of his face. Large hands slid under his arms and pulled him to his feet, and then there was a hand rubbing circles into his back and another at the base of his neck, brushing through his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re home, I’m here. It’s okay, Eds.”

Eddie’s fingers found the front of Richie’s shirt and pulled him closer, burying his face in his chest as the tears continued rolling down his cheeks. Richie kept mumbling and Eddie thought he heard something about killing a son of a bitch but he was probably imagining it. He didn’t even think about the fact that they’d been fighting for the last few days. None of that mattered anymore because Richie was solid and warm and _here_ and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and cried harder.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, after they’d somehow made it to the couch, Richie’s arms wrapped around Eddie, stroking his hair and mumbling soothing words into his ear. Richie pulled back and ducked his head to look Eddie in the eyes. He didn’t ask what happened, just kept rubbing his hands on Eddie’s back and patting his head and Eddie realised all at once, with Richie’s warm body pressed against him, holding him tight, that he never stopped being in love with him. That Ryan and chemistry boy and track boy were all placeholders for Richie and maybe now the universe was telling him to be honest and come out and let Richie know how much he meant to him.

“I was seeing someone,” Eddie began even though Richie didn’t ask, his emotional breakdown clouding his judgement and making him feel brave, “Sleeping with them, actually. And I asked if we could be in a proper relationship and… fuck.” Eddie sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “I got rejected.” Maybe he could have used proper pronouns. Maybe he could have said Ryan’s name. But maybe it wasn’t the right moment and maybe his emotional breakdown clouding his judgement was putting him in a frame of mind that he’d regret later. Richie’s eyebrows creased and his head was tilted. Eddie shrugged. “It’s fine,” he lied, wishing Richie would stop looking at him like that.

“Eds, it’s not fine, what the fuck? Who in their right mind would reject _you?_ You’re a fucking catch.” Eddie chuckled weakly, sniffling and running a hand through his hair. Richie barrelled on. “Anyone who wouldn’t want to date you must be fucking crazy, because you are the best person I’ve ever known.”

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled.

“No, you shut up. Throwing sand at you in first grade was the best fucking decision of my life, Eds. I am honestly baffled at why anyone wouldn’t want you as their boyfriend. You’re… You’re perfect, what can I say? I mean, yeah, you’re like a tiny little firecracker and when something sets you off you fucking _go off,_ but underneath your feral cat-like behaviour, you’d do anything for the people you care about, you’d always take care of me and the rest of the Losers whenever someone was sick or upset. You’re so passionate and smart and you want to change the world, I can see it in your eyes when you’re reading your psych books, you just want to help people. Not to mention you’re a great fucking cook.” Eddie started to giggle, his laughter dying in his throat when Richie’s hand moved around to hold his face, the rough tips of his fingers rubbing against his cheek. “This person who rejected you is fucking stupid and you deserve better. You deserve the world, Eds.”

Oh yeah, Eddie was definitely still in love. He almost, very nearly almost, just said _fuck it_ and closed the distance between them, but it still didn’t feel like the right time. Eddie wondered if it would ever feel like the right time. He didn’t even know for sure how Richie felt about him, about boys in general, but he knew they had something special. This thing he kept referring to when he thought about Richie, this thing that had been building between them all these years, he could feel it starting to come to a head. Maybe soon would be the right time. Eddie could wait.

So, he did move forward, but just to tuck his face into Richie’s neck and breathe in deeply, basking in his warmth and the smell of his cologne and shampoo and—

“Since when did you start washing your hair with actual product?” Eddie pulled back to ask, running his fingers through Richie’s hair, not getting caught in tangles and knots this time.

“Since you told me I should, like, two months ago. I even bought my own shampoo and everything.”

“Not one of those three-in-one shampoo, conditioner and body wash?”

“Nope. You taught me to have standards. See what I mean? Always takin’ care of me, Eds. You’re the best.”

“You’re the worst,” Eddie replied automatically, then he sighed. “I guess you’re pretty alright yourself.” Richie huffed but he was grinning. “Okay, okay. You’re the best, too. Whatever. Don’t let it go to your big head.”

“Don’t worry, Eds.” Richie tapped his temples. “There ain’t nothing knocking around in this noggin ‘cept how cute my best friend is.”

“Beep beep, Rich. Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Oh, are we having a moment? Should I get some roses and chocolates, maybe? Condoms?”

“And he’s back. Fucking Trashmouth.” Eddie smacked Richie’s upper arm lightly. He dropped his head, looking down at his hands, and decided on a whim with a rush of bold adrenaline, to take Richie’s hands in his. “Thank you, though, really.”

“Of course, Spaghetti. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“How about the dishes? Since you made me break my favourite mug yesterday. I think you owe me one.”

“Fine. But you’re doing the laundry.”

“Deal.”

“Have fun with my bedsheets.”

“Oh, fuck off, I’m not doing your filthy fucking bedsheets.”

“I don’t blame you. Fucking has definitely recently occurred on them.”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting, Richie.”

“That’s not what I was told last night, Eds!”

“Beep beep, dickhead!”

Lily and her brother had somehow managed to snag themselves an apartment in Highbridge in the Bronx, across the road from a twenty-four-hour McDonalds, and Eddie was almost certain it was because her brother was a dodgy character. Eddie’s favourite items in his revamped wardrobe at the moment were a pair of light wash jeans and a burgundy sweater, and it felt Christmas party appropriate to wear red, or green, but Richie had taken it to the next fucking level. Eddie had tried to get him to take off the ridiculous bright red pants and Eddie’s green sweater that was at least two sizes too small, topped off with a frankly disgusting green and gold striped jacket that he found at the thrift store the other day and stupid Christmas baubles that he’d fucking stuck _through his ears that Eddie then had to ice and apply antiseptic cream to so they didn’t get infected._

At least Mariah Carey’s Christmas album was being played.

Glancing around the dimly lit room, Eddie spotted a couple of people he’d seen around campus, including a boy named Travis from his intro to psych class. Travis was pretty, his blonde hair parted and flopping over his forehead as he danced with a bunch of people Eddie didn’t know. Apparently Richie knew at least one of them, though, because he shouted out and dragged Eddie over to the middle of the makeshift dance floor. He tapped on the shoulder of a tall girl with a short ponytail wrapped in tinsel, who spun around and threw herself into Richie’s arms with a squeal.

“Richie! You made it!”

“Eds, this is Lily, our humble host. Lils, my favourite tiny angry man, Edward Spaghedward.”

“Just Eddie, please,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Lily chuckled and shook Eddie’s hand, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “I know you. Richie doesn’t shut up about you.” Eddie saw Richie blush at the same time he felt warmth rise to his own cheeks, not noticing Lily glancing back and forth between them. “But yes! Welcome to my place! Alex couldn’t be here tonight ‘cause her parents actually like her and she’s gone home for Christmas. You’ll find most people here are outcasts, kinda nerdy, really gay and generally nothing like your average college party kids. People who have nowhere to go over the break or whose parents don’t want to see them, like myself.”

Richie had lost interest a few seconds after Lily started rambling, clearly already knowing what she was talking about, and had turned to talk to someone else, bopping along with the music. Eddie kept his eyes on Lily, listening intently.

“My parents practically disowned me when I came out to them earlier this year. Fucking rednecks. My brother, Jake, was super supportive and actually kicked his roommate out so I could live here with him once I started university.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie said, for lack of knowing what he should say in a situation like this. He wondered if his mother would have done the same thing.

Lily shook her head. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ve had a bit,” she said, holding her cup up in gesture. “I shouldn’t have dumped that on you when just meeting you. Man, I gotta slow down with these.”

“Speaking of which. Rich?” Eddie tapped Richie’s shoulder, dragging him away from his conversation. “Drink?” he asked, nodding towards the kitchen.

“Don’t go in there if you wanna maintain any sort of dignity,” Lily warned them.

“That sounds like an invitation if I ever heard one,” Richie said, taking Eddie’s hand and dragging them into the kitchen anyway.

Lily was right. Sitting in the double doorway between the lounge room and the kitchen were about ten or twelve people crowded in a circle around an empty wine bottle, playing some dumb drinking game in which Eddie definitely did not want to get involved. The bottle was spun and he quickly realised what was going on when two people crawled into the middle of the circle and attached their lips together while everyone else cheered. Richie and Eddie stepped over a few peoples’ legs and squished into the small space between the fridge and the kitchen bench, Richie surveying the choice of drinks.

“Hey. Hey, Eds. Wanna play?” Richie was holding two red solo cups, and, knowing there was no arguing with Richie when he had his mind set on a game, Eddie grabbed one and downed the entire thing immediately.

“Okay,” he said, reaching for the second cup, ignoring Richie’s wide eyes. Eddie plopped down on the floor between two giggling girls, motioning across the circle for Richie to join.

After a few more drinks were knocked back, Eddie’s muscles loosened slightly and his inhibitions even more, he was beginning to think that playing spin the bottle with Richie wasn’t the brightest idea. At least eight couples had kissed by now, including Richie and some random girl, a few couples taking several minutes to just suck on each others’ tongues with how drunk they were. Eddie’s luck would only last for so long. People had shuffled around in the circle and a few others had joined them and now Travis was on Eddie’s right, about to spin the bottle.

Travis nudged Eddie with his elbow. “Wouldn’t it be neat if it landed on you, Kaspbrak?” he teased, but Eddie could see the sparkle in his eyes and he knew he was serious. They talked occasionally in class, flirted a little, but Travis hadn’t shown too much of an interest in Eddie since Eddie spent most of his time talking to Ryan. Maybe luck would be in his favour this time and he’d get to make out with this cute boy instead of Richie like he was predicting.

But the bottle landed on another boy across the circle and Eddie somehow managed to make eye contact with Richie right as Travis and the other guy started kissing. It wasn’t a heated stare, but there was definitely something different about it, something about the fact that they’d mentioned the gay thing a few weeks ago and now were watching two boys making out, something tangible, like Eddie could taste Richie’s thoughts on the tip of his tongue. Travis sat back down and jostled Eddie out of his own head, breaking his gaze from Richie.

“Better luck next time, eh, Ed?” Travis smirked, but Eddie couldn’t have cared less about him right now, because now it was his turn to spin.

The moment of truth, he supposed.

He reached out and grabbed the bottle, twisting his wrist and letting go with force, watching the bottle whirl around in circles, over and over and over, slowing and slowing, a sinking feeling of dread creeping up on him as it slowed to a stop, facing across the circle.

Eddie looked up.

It was pointing to Richie’s left, at a girl.

Eddie let out a deep sigh and started to crawl forward. He didn’t know this girl, hadn’t seen her before tonight, and probably would never see her again. Eddie was vaguely aware that this would be his first kiss with a girl and also the first time Richie would see him have a romantic-sexual interaction with someone. The girl knelt in front of him, swaying forward slightly. She was probably just as drunk as he was. He leaned in without thinking too much about it, surprised at how soft this girl’s lips were. Eddie’s lips were notoriously chapped, no matter how much lip balm he applied, because of how many years he spent licking them out of anxious habit. He felt the girl’s tongue prodding at his lips and decided he’d better stop this kiss before she got too into it since, for obvious reasons, he was very much _not_ into it.

A couple of turns later, once most people in the circle had kissed someone, a few people decided they’d had enough of this game and left to join whoever was on the dance floor or sprawled across the couch in the other room. Lily sat down next to Eddie and leaned into his side, laughing at something another girl with spiky purple hair was saying.

“Who wants to play ‘never have I ever’?!” spiky purple girl shouted, a round of cheers and whoops following.

Eddie groaned. Another game that was bound to end badly.

Lily pointed across the circle at the girl Eddie had just kissed. “Cathy, you first! Make sure it’s juicy!”

Cathy groaned, earning a small smirk from Eddie. “Okay, okay. Umm… Never have I ever stolen anything from the store.”

Richie drank immediately and Eddie very nearly screeched. Lily pointed at Richie next.

“Ah, fuck. What the fuck haven’t I done?” A few people chuckled. “Oh! Never have I ever cheated on someone.”

A few people sheepishly drank.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

Eddie pointedly did not look up as he took a sip from his cup, ignoring the resounding _awww_ from whoever didn’t drink.

“Never have I ever started a fist-fight.”

This time, Eddie looked up to watch Richie drink, thinking back to the few times Henry Bowers tried to have a go at Eddie or Beverly or Ben, verbally, and Richie stepped in and clocked him in the face instead. Eddie started giggling.

“Eds. ‘is your turn,” Richie slurred.

“Oh, um…”

“Juicy, Eddie!” Lily squealed, nudging him in the side.

“Mmkay, fuckin’ hell. Never have I ever… had sex in my own house.”

“What the fuck, man?” someone across the circle said.

“Where have you been having sex?” Travis asked, eyes widening.

“In the other person’s house!” Eddie said, throwing his hands up in defence. “Where the fuck else?”

Lily and a few others cackled and Eddie tried not to think about the fact that Richie was drinking.

“Finally!” Lily exclaimed. “My turn. Okay! Never have I ever sucked a dick.”

“That’s not fair!” a girl said, “You’re a lesbian!”

“So? That’s part of the rules. I haven’t done it, so I can say it. I’ve never sucked a dick. Drink if you’ve sucked a dick.”

Eddie must have been really fucking drunk. He must have been _wasted_ to basically out himself to everyone in the whole fucking room. He took a drink, eyes automatically drifting over the top of his cup dazedly, ending up locked with Richie’s. Richie, who was also taking a sip. Richie, who was drinking because… Richie had sucked a dick.

Richie had sucked a dick.

Holy fucking—

Eddie sculled the rest of his drink, dropped his empty cup and scrambled away from the circle, lost in the commotion of people yelling at Lily for an unfair question and others gushing about whose dicks they’d sucked. Richie’d had another guy’s dick in his mouth. Richie was… into boys, to some extent, at least. Eddie was right. Eddie was fucking right.

But Richie hadn’t told him. He’d kept it a secret, hadn’t thought Eddie worthy of telling, hadn’t thought this was something his best friend needed to know. Eddie’s stomach lurched uncomfortably, finding himself stumbling towards the couch, a few other people surrounding him still going wild on the dance floor. Eddie sat down and stared at his hands for all of ten seconds when someone appeared at his side. At first, he thought it was Richie, but then the person spoke.

“You okay, Eddie?” Travis asked.

Eddie wanted to say no, because his best friend hadn’t trusted him with this fact, this personal information, this vital aspect of himself. But he wanted to say yes, because Travis was nobody and Travis didn’t need to know that Eddie was hopelessly in love with his best friend and was shattered that he hadn’t been let in on this secret. Then again, Eddie hadn’t come out to Richie, either, so maybe he deserved to be kept in the dark on this one.

So, Eddie nodded. “Yeah, fine,” he replied, turning to face Travis. “More than fine, actually.” And maybe it was the alcohol taking control, making him do things in front of people that he wouldn’t have dared to in the months gone by, but Eddie could not have stopped himself leaning in if he tried. He grabbed Travis by the shirt collar and yanked him in for a messy kiss that was all tongue and teeth and absolutely no smoothness or care at all. He pushed Travis onto his back on the couch and crawled on top of him, not caring if anyone was watching because, as Lily had said, half the people here were queer and no one would give a shit anyway.

Eddie didn’t see Richie watching and he didn’t see Richie disappear into one of the other rooms with the girl he’d kissed earlier. And Eddie definitely did not think about Richie when he ended up in the bathroom with Travis’ mouth wrapped around his dick and he did not let his eyes slip shut and imagine the long, floppy blonde hair he had in his grip was actually black and curly, and he definitely did not clamp his teeth down on his lower lip to avoid calling out someone else’s name. Definitely not.

On his trip home the next day, Eddie was overwhelmingly glad that he kept sunglasses and aspirin in the backpack he always carried with him because his head was fucking killing him. The subway was dirty and way too crowded for a Saturday morning but probably as crowded as expected for Christmas Eve morning. Eddie kept his head down as he walked from the station to the apartment building, thankful he didn’t bump into any of their neighbours as he ascended the stairs.

Richie was sitting on the kitchen bench when Eddie came inside and he hopped down as soon as the front door was shut. The night was a bit of a blur, if Eddie was being honest, but one thing he would never forget for as long as he lived was that he and Richie both drank to the fact they’d blown a guy. So, maybe that was something they had to talk about. Maybe that was why Richie looked like utter shit, in desperate need of a shower, but he was waiting up for Eddie to get in. So they could talk about this.

Knowing what a coward Richie could be when there were important matters to discuss, Eddie decided to take the first leap, throwing himself out there and hoping Richie would catch him.

“So, the thing is,” he began, voice quieter than he’d hoped, what with how much confidence he’d felt not two seconds ago, “A-About last night, um…” Richie nodded slowly, but maybe Eddie ought to check, just in case he was about to throw himself under the bus. “You remember what happened, right?”

Richie nodded again, more sure of himself this time. “I—Yeah, we both, uh, admitted a couple things.”

“Right. We did.” Eddie had no idea why this was so awkward. It was _him and Richie,_ for fuck’s sake. They were best friends. They told each other (almost) everything (apparently). He just had to suck it up and spit it the fuck out. “So, I’ve sucked a dick, yes. Many, actually. Because I-I’m… I’m gay.”

Richie just stared at him and for a fleeting, horrifying moment, Eddie was worried that he’d misunderstood everything Richie had said and done in his entire life and was about to be shunned and shamed by his best friend because why the fuck wasn’t he saying anything? Maybe this was one big terrible mistake and Eddie was about to be kicked to the curb because he was an idiot who’d been blinded by his own feelings and really didn’t know his friend and all and maybe his life would never be the same after those two, small words were spoken or maybe—

“You’re gay?”

A breath rushed out of Eddie’s lungs and he swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, voice lowered almost to a whisper.

Richie rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands clenching at his sides like they did when he needed a cigarette or was losing focus on a task or was brimming with energy he didn’t know where to place. Eddie didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t know what Richie’s furrowed brows meant, nor his slightly widened eyes, his parted lips, his sharp inhale – not in this context. Normally, Eddie could read Richie like a children’s book. He was always so expressive and after knowing him for so many years, watching how he reacted to things, how his eyes crinkled when he found something genuinely funny or how his chest expanded and his lashes fluttered when something tasted good or the quiver of his lips when movies made him sad or the pouty face when homework frustrated him. He tried to hide behind inappropriate humour, sure, but Eddie had always been well versed in the deciphering of Richie Tozier’s emotions.

Except right now, when Eddie’s heart felt like it was about to beat its way right through his chest and splatter onto the floor for all to see and Richie would just stare blankly at the mess Eddie’d made with his words without saying a damn thing.

Richie licked his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

“I… I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it,” Eddie answered honestly. “I mean, come on, we grew up in Derry. I know you’d make jokes all the time about thinking our friends are attractive and saying shit like I have a nice ass, but I always thought you were actually joking.”

Richie chuckled quietly. “For the record, since we’re putting shit out there, I do really think you have a nice ass, Eds.”

Eddie snorted. “You can’t be serious for one minute, can you?”

“Nope.” Richie paused, licked his lips again. “So, does this mean the other day when you said you were sleeping with someone and you wanted to date them…”

Eddie nodded. “It’s a boy, yeah. Ryan Shantha. You’ve seen me with him a few times.”

“That guy radiates big dick energy. Probably couldn’t compare to me, though.” Richie recoiled theatrically. “Don’t tell me you take _that_ up the ass, Spaghetti?”

Eddie hated that he was blushing. “Why the fuck would you assume I’m taking and not giving?”

“Because you’re small and adorable and easy to manhandle.”

“Oh, fuck off, I’ve seen girls smaller than me manhandle _you,_ Ten Inch fucknut.” Now it was Richie’s turn to blush, much to Eddie’s delight. “Speaking of you and girls…?”

Richie’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

Eddie waited a beat for Richie to continue on his own, but of course, he didn’t. “Was all of that a lie?”

“No,” Richie said immediately. “Not at all.”

Eddie was a little confused, if he were being honest. “So, you dated girls, but then how…? Why—”

“I like both,” Richie cut him off. “Girls a-and… and boys. Stan says it’s called bisexual.”

“Stan?” Eddie gawked. “You told Stan?”

“Yeah, I told Stan. I didn’t mean to, it just sort of came out.” Richie snorted. “Ha. Came out. I’m fuckin’ funny.”

“You told Stan and not me?”

“Jeez, Eds, relax. You know what your mom used to say about gay people and AIDs. How was I s'posed to know you hadn’t learned that shit from her and you would be okay with it?”

Eddie supposed that was fair enough, but then— “I’m not my mother. I’m nothing like my mother, what the fuck, Richie?”

Richie held his hands up, palms forward in defense. “You didn’t tell me, either, Spaghetti Man, so you have no right to complain.”

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face. He gestured towards the kitchen. “I need coffee.”

They settled on either side of the kitchen counter, Eddie’s coffee black in a new mug and Richie’s white and doused with so much sugar that Eddie had no idea how he hadn’t developed several cavities yet.

“So,” Eddie began, taking a sip from his mug, “All cards on the table. Whose dick did you suck?”

Richie spluttered, nearly choking on his coffee. “I-I, uh— Some dude I met at a club?”

“Oh my god, Richie, that’s how you _do_ fucking catch something, you dickhead.”

“Shut up, it was clearly fine. Okay, your turn. When did you know you were gay?”

“Like, fourteen, fifteen. I know that’s only recent, but like you said, my mom was a right piece of work and I was stupid and repressed and full of shame. All that fun stuff.”

Richie put down his mug and reached across the counter to hold Eddie’s forearm. “I’m sorry, Eds. Obviously I knew what your mom was like, but I was only thinking about myself. I wish I’d known you were going through the same kinda thing. God, we’re so fucking stupid, we could’ve been there for each other if we’d gotten our shit together and talked about this earlier.”

“I really only came to terms with it a couple of years ago. I actually only said that I was gay out loud… in January. Like not even a whole year ago. That’s how fucked up my mom got me.” Eddie shook his head. “Whatever. That was the whole point of us getting away. I don’t need to think about her anymore. How old were you when you figured it out?”

“Honestly, I think I’ve always known, but I only really allowed myself to think about it when I was thirteen.”

Eddie swallowed. “In the summer?” Richie nodded slowly. “I guess having your life threatened by an interdimensional demon shapeshifter and then killing said monster could make you question yourself, yeah.”

Richie laughed at that, finally pulling his hand back, leaving Eddie’s skin tingling. “Yeah, something like that.”

Eddie drank the last of his coffee and took their mugs to the sink, rinsing them out and adding them to the small pile of dirty dishes. “Can you do these later? I’ve got to get to work soon.”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, Eds?”

Eddie turned around. “Yeah?”

Richie walked around the kitchen counter and right up to Eddie, slipping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him close, ducking his head to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. Eddie relaxed into Richie’s warmth and affection, snaking his arms around his waist and squeezing gently. He’d been so worried about things getting weird, about Richie rejecting him and losing his best friend, but he should have realised that nothing would change. They’d endured much, much worse hardships than coming out, and now especially, since they were in New York, Eddie should have known nothing would come between them.

“I feel good,” Richie mumbled, “Finally telling you. I hate keeping secrets from you. It’s taken me so long to come to terms with it and… I don’t know if I still really have. I know that sounds stupid since I’ve… y’know, screwed a dude now, but I used to think I’d somehow come out wrong, not being straight and not being gay, just…”

Eddie rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Rich, I get it. People can feel things differently from others and that doesn’t make anyone’s feelings more or less okay than anyone else’s. Your feelings are just as valid and mine and Lily’s, or Ben and Bev’s.” Eddie pulled back from the hug and took Richie’s face in both hands, brows pinching together. “One day, we’re gonna go to a pride event and find other people who like girls and boys and you’re gonna talk to them and feel right at home. You’re gonna realise how important and _normal_ you are, Rich, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to see that.”

The corners of Richie’s lips curved upwards slightly into something Eddie would describe as a fond, gentle smile. “You’re the best, Eds, honestly. Ryan Shantha was fuckin’ crazy for not wanting to be with you.”

“Yeah, he was. But you know what? Now I have all the time in the world to show you, my favourite Trashmouth, just how special your big heart and all its stupid feelings truly are.”

“My heart isn’t the only big thing about me,” Richie said, voice wavering and completely ruining the effect of the joke, but Eddie giggled anyway. 

“Yeah, yeah, your huge cock, I know.” Eddie rolled his eyes as Richie snorted, stuck his face back in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t the mom jokes.” Richie laughed softly, nuzzled against Eddie’s skin. He mumbled something that Eddie couldn’t quite make out, but it sort of sounded like _I love you._ “What was that?” Eddie whispered. 

“Nothin’.”

“Rich.”

“Just… I love you, Spaghetti.”

Eddie sighed, scratching lightly at Richie’s scalp. “I love you, too, Trashmouth.”

He wondered if, one day, he could say those words in all seriousness and make Richie understand. He wondered if Richie would say it back. If he ever found the courage to say it properly, to explain to Richie what he meant when he said those words, as he stood here with Richie mumbling into his neck and holding him in his arms, Eddie was starting to believe again, with more confidence than before, that maybe Richie might say it back and mean it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie: no homo but i love u and also sort of homo 
> 
> if anyone has any ideas for things they wanna see the boys do in new york, hit me up in the comments or on Tumblr [@bowtiescarves](http://www.bowtiescarves.tumblr.com). I’ve been reviewing my chapter plans and some are looking a bit bare, so I’m open to hearing ur ideas, pre and post getting together <3


	14. Three step plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1994 - February 1995. Richie nearly makes a mistake. Eddie nearly confesses something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For five flipping weeks i struggled through writing ch15 and then i wrote like a third of ch16 in the last three days. I’m still adamant about staying 1-2 chapters ahead of posting. After next week i have a break from uni so hopefully the next update won’t take three weeks, i’m really sorry this update took so long :(

The top five most emotional experiences of Richie Tozier’s nearly nineteen years of life were, in no particular order, as followed:

Killing a sewer clown at thirteen years old with his childhood friends.

The first time his mother got so drunk she forgot who he was.

Discovering he liked boys and was deeply in love with his best friend.

High school graduation, wherein he had to leave most of his childhood friends behind.

Coming out to his best friend whom he was deeply in love with.

As soon as he’d taken a sip of his drink, admitting to the world that he was a little bit gay, Richie vowed to never again consume a single drop of alcohol because it made him do stupid, _stupid_ things. Even though Eddie’d had a drink, too, in Richie’s drunken state, he’d somehow convinced himself that his eyes were playing tricks on him and Eddie had not just, in fact, also confessed to having given a blowjob before. That became a little harder when Eddie then started grinding down on some sleazeball whom Richie had never seen before, and he resolved to find the girl he’d made out with during spin the bottle. She was easy to spot in the crowd because of her wild, frizzy black hair, and taking her into Lily’s room was an easy distraction from whatever Eddie was doing to the blonde boy on the couch.

Part of Richie had been fucking terrified when he got home the day after Lily’s party to find Eddie hadn’t been there. He almost drove himself insane trying to remember if he’d taken something to make himself misremember the whole night and maybe Eddie hadn’t sucked a dick and maybe now that he’d found out about Richie’s secret, he hated him and never wanted to see him again because Richie was right all along and Eddie wasn’t like him and now Eddie was disgusted by him and—

And then Eddie came home and _talked to him,_ just like Stan and Bev always told Richie to do. And Richie had been wrong. Eddie was gay. Eddie kissed boys and had sex with boys because he was gay and Richie was a fucking idiot for not seeing it before. Thinking about how New-York-Eddie dressed and behaved and decorated their apartment, Richie could not understand how he had been so blind. Well, he supposed he was blinded by his own self-hatred and always put Eddie on a pedestal and since Richie felt like he was wrong and Eddie could do no wrong in his eyes, then Eddie couldn’t possibly be like him.

But he was. He was _gay._

Which meant that Richie… Richie might have stood a chance?

No, Eddie deserved better.

Just because Eddie liked boys, didn’t mean he liked Richie. Why the fuck would he like Richie, anyway? Richie was a walking disaster, a mess of a human being with no emotional intelligence and way too many mom jokes and a fashion sense that even thrift stores laughed at. Richie had taught himself to play Creep by Radiohead and had been strumming away on his guitar non-stop for the past few days, convincing himself that Eddie thought he was still a weirdo so that he wouldn’t do something even more stupid like confess his feelings, because if he were certain he’d be rejected then he’d keep his mouth shut.

Christmas was two days after Lily’s party and was not particularly eventful, especially compared to the Christmases they usually had with all their friends, drinking eggnog with a record on in the background while they opened Secret Santa gifts. This year, they’d agreed to forgo tradition and not buy each other anything on account of needing to save money, but then the game store next to Richie’s work got their first PlayStation shipment in and Richie managed to convince Eddie to chip in for the console and a couple of games for them to play together, and they ended up throwing all Christmas traditions out the window to just sit in front of their tiny television playing some Japanese fighting game that they couldn’t understand. Richie beat Eddie by a mile, of course, and Eddie was so cute when he lost, when he pouted and groaned and smacked Richie’s arm. Richie did let him win one round just to see his face light up like the Christmas tree in the corner that Eddie had insisted on getting. As they did with Thanksgiving dinner, they cooked together, Richie following Eddie’s instructions even though he still had no idea where Eddie even learned to cook because he could not imagine Sonia allowing him near the stove or a knife ever. They borrowed Alex’s fruitcake recipe, as much as Richie complained about having fruit in his dessert, and dinner wasn’t half bad. Richie was getting better at not burning stuff and Eddie complimented his honey roasted carrots so really, lack of Losers aside, it was a good Christmas.

It was now early afternoon on December thirty-first and Richie was helping Eddie rifle through his wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit for their first New Years’ Eve in Times Square. Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie’s geometric printed sweater and decided to match his crazy attire with a colourful, striped sweater of his own. Richie thought they looked rather cute, standing in front of the mirror together in their bright clothing. He reached out to pinch Eddie’s cheek but his hand was swatted away after only one “cute”.

Eddie turned and put his hands on his hips. “Are you going to be warm enough?”

“Probably.” Richie shrugged. “I’ll just chuck a beanie on.”

“Make sure you’re warm.”

“Yeah, okay, mom.”

Richie started to grow suspicious soon after they left the house about why Eddie was so concerned about him staying warm, because Eddie’s arms were swinging back and forth and he had a giddy smile on his face that made Richie’s insides feel equal parts adoration and confusion. His fingers twitched instinctively and he couldn’t help himself when he reached a hand out to grab one of Eddie’s, giving it a squeeze.

“What’s got this Spaghetti all excited, hm?”

“Oh, nothing,” Eddie sing-songed, and Richie’s heart soared when he squeezed back. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He was acutely aware of the fact that Eddie did not drop his hand as they kept walking, could feel sparks of electricity buzzing through the layers of their gloves, snow falling softly on the footpath in front of them. They’d left their apartment rather early in the day to avoid taking the subway when people were packed in like sardines, mostly for Eddie’s sake, and they’d decided to grab some lunch in Manhattan before joining the growing crowd in Times Square for the evening’s performances. After they exited the station, Richie was about to suggest a restaurant on 10th Avenue that Anton had once mentioned, when Eddie reached back out and took his hand, pulling him in the opposite direction, off towards Times Square.

“Where we goin’, Eds? What happened to our lunch date?”

“It’s not— Whatever, I have a better idea.”

“Better than a date with Eddie Spaghetti? There ain’t no such thing!”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a fucking date, dipshit; I said it was better than lunch.”

Richie was ignoring how his heart stuttered at Eddie playing along with the whole date thing. “But I’m hungry, Eds.”

“Grow the fuck up,” Eddie snapped and then, softer, he said, “You’ll like this, I promise.”

They crossed the road and went down into another station, hopping on the subway again on a different line. Richie was rather directionally challenged and Eddie had probably memorised all the train and bus lines and everything already, so he just held onto the railing and let Eddie direct him when they had to get off.

Richie might not have been able to tell one block in New York City from another, but he’d have to be actually blind to miss Central Park when it was staring him in the face.

“A walk in the park on New Years’ Eve? Oh, Edward, I never took you for such a romantic.”

“Shut up, it’s not a walk in the park. You’re here, how could it be?”

Richie grinned, glancing down at Eddie and taking his hand again. That wasn’t weird, right? They used to hold hands and fucking cuddle and shit all the time when they were younger and even a few weeks ago, and they’d both been gay that whole time, even if they didn’t know it. It shouldn’t have made a difference now that they knew. Treating Eddie differently because now Richie knew he was gay would surely be some kind of homophobia, wouldn’t it? Richie didn’t know and he did not care, either. He’d hold Eddie’s hand if he damn well pleased, provided Eddie wanted him to… And Eddie wasn’t pulling away, so.

They reached the end of The Pond and rounded one last cluster of trees, and all of a sudden, Richie realised where Eddie had taken him.

Wollman Ice Skating Rink.

“Just as you took me surprise-rollerblading,” Eddie started to explain, but he didn’t get another word in before Richie swooped down and lifted him into a crushing hug. “Fucking put me down!” Eddie wheezed, smacking Richie’s shoulder.

“Eds! It’s perfect.” He set him down as asked and squeezed his face between his hands instead, leaning down to kiss his forehead with a loud smack. “You’re perfect. Thank you.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, but he was blushing. “We both know I’m gonna kick your ass at ice skating as well.”

“Fine by me. I get to watch you skate ahead of me,” Richie said with a wink.

After paying for entry and rental ice skates, they had roughly an hour before they wanted to head off for lunch and the performances, and Richie planned on making every second count. He waddled onto the rink, one hand on the barrier and one clutching Eddie’s, willing himself not to fall on his ass and make even more of a fool of himself than he usually did.

Eddie was right – Richie sucked at ice skating just as much as rollerblading and Eddie was flying around the rink, weaving through the kids and couples and making it back to Richie while Richie had barely skated halfway around. Eddie came up behind him and grabbed his waist, almost sending them both toppling to the ground, but Richie’s grip on the barrier was tight and he wasn’t moving very fast, so he stopped them falling, yelping embarrassingly. Eddie laughed, head thrown back and eyes crinkled with joy, causing Richie’s heart to thump loudly against his ribcage, so loudly and so aggressively that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Eddie could feel it through all their layers where his hands were still gripping Richie’s waist.

Eddie said they should be in Times Square by three if they wanted to be able to see the stage, so he insisted that they leave at 2:30pm to beat the rush of people pouring out of Central Park onto the streets of New York. The restaurants across the road were packed with lunchtime patrons, so they decided to take a longer route to Times Square, ducking into an alleyway off 50th street where a cute, twenty-four-hour cafe was tucked away. They ate quickly, Eddie periodically checking his watch and urging Richie to gobble down his sandwich even faster. Once they started walking again, making good time to get into the prime viewing position for Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, Richie’s heart jumped into his throat when Eddie let their hands fall together again.

“Think I’d make a good Danny Zuko?” Richie asked, pointing up to the Grease Broadway billboards and desperately trying to ignore how hard his heart was beating.

Eddie snorted. “You’d be more like if Kenickie’s charm and Sonny’s stupidity had a baby.”

“Aw, Eds, you think I’m charming?”

“I most certainly do not, but apparently other people do. Must be something in the water.”

“You’ve definitely got aspects of Rizzo,” Richie said, “Tough and taking no shit from anyone. But you’re also fuckin’ adorable like Frenchy.”

“Well, if we’re talking girls, then you’d definitely be Patty Simcox because you’re cheesy and your face is stupid and don’t need help making a fool of yourself.”

“If we’re talkin’ girls, I’m definitely Cha Cha, ‘cause she’s hot as fuck.”

“Is she? Can’t say I agree,” Eddie quipped.

Richie laughed. “Eds Spagheds gets off a good one, once again. You’re getting funnier every day, I swear. Must be how much time we’re spending together.”

“No, that’s definitely not it.”

“Hey!” Richie started to be offended, but Eddie shushed him and stepped in front of him as they got to the stage area, Eddie’s small frame allowing him to push through the crowd without too much trouble, hand gripping Richie’s tightly so he didn’t get lost. “This is a damn good view, Kaspbrak.”

“Are you talking about our proximity to the stage or my ass?”

“Why not both?” Richie chuckled, earning an eye roll from Eddie.

The point of arriving so early was to beat the crowds and actually be able to see the stage, but Richie had almost forgotten that they’d then be standing around for hours until the show started. He tried to keep them from getting bored by singing, firstly, but after a few songs, the people around them seemed to get annoyed, so he switched to whispering stupid observations into Eddie’s ear until the boy cracked, then rattling off a few jokes he’d been working on for the open mic stand-up night in a few weeks, mentally noting which ones made Eddie laugh the hardest.

The ball was turned on at six, lighting up brightly even though it wasn’t dark out yet. Eddie immediately started informing Richie about the light bulbs they used and how just a few years ago they’d turned the ball into a giant apple for some fucking reason.

The Primetime part of the show began at eight. When Dick Clark and the camera crew arrived, the crowd went wild, screaming and cheering and shaking their arms around like they’d get the man’s attention that way. Finally, the show began. After Dick Clark himself ran through the introduction of his show, giving the crowd their moments to cheer for the camera and wave their pom poms (why the fuck they had pom poms, Richie had no clue), the first performance started. Melissa Etheridge wouldn’t have been Richie’s first choice to listen to, but the two songs she sang had the crowd swaying.

Richie leaned down and sang Come To My Window softly near Eddie’s ear. “ _You don't know how far I'd go to ease this precious ache. You don't know how much I'd give or how much I can take, just to reach you._ ” Eddie tilted his head so that Richie’s lips brushed against his ear, his beanie pressing against Richie’s nose. “This could be our song, Eds. Like how I’d come to your window all the time.”

Of course, as soon as the words left his mouth, the lyrics took a rather romantic turn.

“ _I don't care what they think, I don't care what they say, What do they know about this love anyway? Come, come to my window. I'll be home, I'll be home, I'll be home, I am coming home._ ”

But Eddie just turned his head to look Richie in the eye. “Yeah, it could be,” he whispered. Richie must have imagined seeing Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips. He swallowed, moving back and putting some space between them before he did something really fucking stupid like kiss Eddie.

The crowd whooped and cheered as the first song ended and the next began, Melissa Etheridge’s raspy voice and acoustic guitar echoing through the makeshift stadium, bouncing off tall buildings and smacking Richie right in the face as Eddie’s arm slipped around his waist and he started swaying them along with the rest of the crowd. Richie very nearly had a heart attack when Eddie’s head tilted to rest against his shoulder, lyrics mumbled just quietly enough that Richie could hear them.

“ _But I'm the only one who'll walk across the fire for you,_ ” Eddie sang. Richie was sure his heart was about to give out. “ _And I'm the only one who'll drown in my desire for you. It's only fear that makes you run, the demons that you're hiding from, when all your promises are gone, I'm the only one._ ”

Richie took over for the second verse, ignoring how much the words rang true and instead focusing on how Eddie’s hand was gripping gently at his side.

The mood changed completely when Salt-N-Pepa came on stage, Eddie’s arm dropping from around Richie and sliding into his hand instead as the crowd bopped along to the girls rapping. Richie snuck a glance down at Eddie, admiring his profile, mouth stretched into a wide grin, lips moving along with the lyrics that Richie was surprised he even knew. He was so fucking cute, Richie’s heart nearly burst out of his chest just watching him.

The rest of the performances were just as enjoyable, but far less stressful, after Eddie finally stopped _touching_ Richie every chance he got and Richie could let himself relax enough to just listen to the music and sing and dance along. He watched the soft blue and purple lights from the stage shining on Eddie’s face during Jon Secada’s set, the audience’s arms up and swaying. Eddie looked almost ethereal, the gentle lights playing on his soft features, making him look like a goddamn airbrushed dream.

Soon enough, the final portion of the show began – the last half hour before the countdown to the ball dropping. Dick Clark spoke into the camera and the crowd jostled them around, cheering madly and shaking pom poms and weird noodly things at the crew scanning their cameras over the people. Eddie tapped Richie’s arm and pointed up, seeing a helicopter above them, undoubtedly filming and commenting on the extent of the crowd gathered.

Ten minutes left. Richie looked up at the glowing ball with white light bulbs, bright in the night sky.

“You know that thing used to be made of iron?” Eddie said. “It’s aluminium now. Could you imagine how heavy it must have been?”

“Probably still lighter than your mother,” Richie quipped, earning himself a slap on the chest.

Five minutes left. Richie knew this because Eddie was checking his watch again every few seconds, as if that would make time go faster or something.

“Four hundred and fifty feet in the air,” Dick Clark’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Ha,” Eddie said, listening as Dick Clark kept talking. “See, I told you. Three hundred watt bulbs. Two of them.”

“I never doubted you, Eds.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, how the fuck would you know some obscure detail about New York’s New Year’s Eve ball when we’ve never seen it even on TV before?”

“You should trust me, that’s why.”

Two minutes left. The first burst of fireworks went off, both of their heads snapping up to watch the colours fly through the sky, loud and bright and shining. The crowd was as loud as ever, screaming and jumping around, knocking Eddie into Richie’s side. Richie slid one arm around Eddie to keep him close and keep them together.

One minute left.

“This is the place to be,” Dick Clark was saying. “The heart of the crossroads of the world.”

The ball started being lowered. Eddie gripped onto his forearm, his heart rate picking up at the closeness and the atmosphere, the people shouting louder and grinning wider as the ball made its descent. It wasn’t as smooth as Richie thought it’d be, the giant object shaking slightly, tilting from side to side as it dropped incrementally.

People started counting.

Ten, nine, eight. There was a couple next to them already making out, hands sliding around each others’ shoulders.

Seven, six, five. The crowd was screaming the numbers out, the ball being lowered in increments as each second passed.

Four. Richie saw another couple lean in, knocking their foreheads together in anticipation.

Three. Eddie shifted, turning to face Richie, his wide grin faltering for a moment as they made eye contact. A stupid thought crossed Richie’s mind.

Two. Time slowed down. Was it stupid? Had Eddie not been holding him, touching him all night? Richie looked down at Eddie, with his pink nose and beanie and the ball had almost dropped but they didn’t notice because they were just staring at each other, Richie’s heart pounding, and in that single second, he decided that he was going to take the biggest chance of his life. He was going to kiss Eddie.

One.

The nineteen-ninety-five lit up on top of the building, sending the crowd into another fit of cheers. People around them leaned in to share a New Year’s kiss, and Richie’s heart leapt into his throat as he stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between himself and Eddie so their chests were flush together. He brought one hand up to cup Eddie’s cheek and this was it, _this was it,_ he was leaning down and Eddie’s eyelids fluttered and Richie sucked in a breath and—

The couple in front of them leapt apart and knocked into them, breaking them apart so they lost all points of contact.

“Sorry, dude,” the man said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder, startling him a little as he tried to make eye contact with Richie again.

Richie’s heart rate picked up again, this time for all the wrong reasons because now he was freaking out and he had to turn away from Eddie because _fuck,_ had he really been about to do that? How had he managed to get it into his head that kissing Eddie would somehow work out in his favour, in _their_ favour, even? He’d gotten wrapped up in the warmth of body heat and the joy of the atmosphere and all the touching but he _knew_ he couldn’t fucking do that. Eddie was off-limits. Eddie didn’t even _like_ him like that. Richie was a fucking idiot. He’d nearly ruined everything.

Richie was starting to learn that if he avoided something for long enough, then Eddie would eventually drop it. It worked for inconsequential things like housework, and slightly more significant things like the time he’d let Martia stay the night and Eddie saw her walking around the kitchen in just Richie’s t-shirt and tried to ask him when he started sleeping with their Chick-Fil-A waitress. This New Year’s Eve almost-kiss was no exception.

Richie just had to ignore any and all times the night was mentioned, including random references to their ice-skating adventure or any conversation about Grease the Musical or Melissa Etheridge or anything that could possibly inspire Eddie to ask Richie what the fuck he’d been thinking when he tried to kiss him. After a couple of weeks, Eddie stopped mentioning winter break completely.

That didn’t mean they stopped being _them._ They didn’t stop touching or holding hands or even snuggling on the couch in front of the TV. Eddie still let Richie lay his head on his lap while Richie played games on the PlayStation and Eddie read a book, running his hands through Richie’s hair. Richie still greeted Eddie with a hug and sometimes a sloppy kiss on the head when he came home to find Eddie in the kitchen, and Eddie still scrambled on top of Richie when he came home to find Richie’s limbs taking over the whole goddamn couch. Sometimes, when their faces got too close, when Richie’s eyes couldn’t help but dart down to Eddie’s lips, he could have sworn he heard Eddie’s breath catch, like he thought Richie might try to kiss him again. But he never did, because Eddie would never want that, because Richie was a catastrophe of a human and Eddie deserved better.

A few weeks into spring semester, Richie found himself swamped with assignments for almost all of his classes, to such an extent that he hadn’t even found time to work on his stand-up routine that he wanted to deliver at Ponyboy’s open mic night. Eddie had tried to encourage him for about a fortnight, before realising that if Richie was struggling with his slack theatre courses and the one compulsory math course he and Alex were taking, then maybe the comedy could take the backseat while Richie worked to retain his high GPA to keep his scholarship.

He and Alex were slumped over a table in the Arts & Science buildings near the math department, papers spread out everywhere. Alex was reading through the lecture notes for at least the fourth time while Richie was starting to fall asleep with his nose in the textbook.

“Remind me, Richard – why the fuck are we doing this?”

Richie groaned. “I don’t know why _you’re_ doing it. You should have taken fuckin’ environmental studies or whatever weird shit your sisters do and leeched off of them instead of me.”

“You said you were good at math!”

“I thought I was!” He shut the textbook and dropped his face into his hands, pushing his glasses on top of his head. “I fucking aced high school math. This is bullshit.”

“I think we’ve earned a break,” Alex said. “Coffee run? Or food?”

Richie opened his mouth to suggest both when the doors slid open and Eddie walked in. He slipped his glasses back on as his face lit up with a bright grin. “Eds?”

“Richie! I saw your hair through the window,” Eddie started to explain, when Richie’s eyes landed on the cardboard tray of takeaway coffee cups in his hand. “And I thought you guys might need this.”

Alex made grabby hands at the cups. “Thank you so much, mystery man.”

“Eddie,” he replied, extending his hand.

“Eddie? You’re Eddie?” Alex’s brows rose. “Wow, the famous Eddie. I finally get to meet you. Richie literally _never_ shuts up about you.”

“Dude!” Richie cut in before she could say something truly embarrassing, despite having specifically not told her about his feelings for his best friend.

“He never shuts up, period,” Eddie said. “At least talking about me means he’s taking a break from his usual trash talking.”

“The only thing I talk about other than you, Eds, is your mom, so if you think that’s trash talking, mister mommy’s boy, then that implies—”

“God, shut the fuck up about my mom already. It’s been like ten fucking years. That shit is old and implies nothing. No implies. Implicit, _nada._ ”

Richie blinked. He looked down at his textbook. “Fuck. Implicit differentiation.” He grabbed the assignment sheet out of Alex’s hand and scrambled for a pen, papers flying around until he found one buried under their mess. “Oh my god, Alex, I got it.”

“You got it?” She sat up, eyes wide, looking down at what Richie was writing. “ _Oh,_ shit, yes! That makes sense! Richie, you goddamn genius.”

Eddie’s knees pressed against Richie’s chair, his body leaning into Richie’s space with his chin on top of Richie’s head. One of his hands fell onto Richie’s shoulder, not holding, just resting comfortably there. “What the hell? Calculus has _more_ weird symbols? There’s more Greek on that page than English, I swear.”

“Fucking— There!” Richie flung the pen across the table, one hand then coming up to settle on top of Eddie’s and the other flipping off his notebook. “Fuck you, solution.”

“What’s this bit?” Alex asked, copying down Richie’s working out.

“Dy/dx!” Eddie pointed at the page. “I remember that!”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded. “You collect the dy/dx terms and take it out as a common factor so you can divide it and get the dy/dx by itself.”

“What the fuck, Rich?” Eddie whispered into his hair, thumb rubbing over Richie’s knuckles. “I forget how smart you are sometimes.”

Richie could feel his cheeks heating up. “You’re the one who said ‘implicit’ and reminded me, Spaghetti.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t undersell yourself, dickhead.”

“He compliments me and then tacks a ‘dickhead’ onto the end. You’re really sending some mixed signals here, Eds.”

“Shut up.” Eddie grabbed his coffee from the tray and hiked his backpack up his shoulder. “I just dropped by to say hi and caffeinate you, but I’ve got another class in an hour so I need to grab some lunch.” He leaned in and gave Richie a quick kiss on his temple, not unlike the way Richie usually kissed him. Richie leaned into the touch, tilted his head up to look at Eddie and they exchanged a gentle smile, then Eddie bid them both goodbye and good luck with the rest of their assignment.

Richie could feel Alex’s eyes on him while he watched Eddie retreat from the room. He had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t be as calm about this as Stan had been, probably would make a huge deal about Richie’s dumb crush and probably tell Lily, as well, and they’d both make fun of him for being so—

“Whenever you talked about Eddie, I just assumed you were friends. You didn’t tell me you were _sleeping together!_ ”

Richie blanched, mouth agape. “What the fuck? We are _not_ sleeping together?! We’re not anything! We _are_ just friends.”

Alex’s eyebrows rose with disbelief. “Sure you’re not. What’s with all the flirting and googly eyes and shit? He’s almost worse than you, being all lovey dovey and giving you a head kiss.”

“You’ve officially gone insane. Eddie doesn’t—” Richie exhaled deeply. “We are so not having this conversation.”

Alex’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Oh my god! _You’re_ in love with _him_ and _he’s_ in love with _you_ and neither of you even know it?”

“Zip it, Beard. Eddie’s not fucking in love with me.”

“You’re not denying the reverse, though. I see you _do_ have a thing for the tanned skin, dark-haired beauties. What will Anton say about this?” Alex teased with a smirk.

“Anton won’t say a damn thing because this doesn’t leave this fucking building, okay? I’m pathetic, yes, thank you for pointing that out. But _Eddie_ doesn’t know that, neither does the rest of the world, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Richie.” She dropped the teasing expression and looked at him seriously. “From what I just saw, you and Eddie are both obviously crazy about each other.”

“He’s—”

“Infatuated. You should see the way he looked at you. It’s how I feel about Lily. Honest to god. I wouldn’t lie about this.”

Richie shook his head. He couldn’t let himself even entertain the thought that she was correct. Despite now being the third person, after Stan and Beverly, to tell him this, Richie could not see it, and was not prepared to risk his friendship with Eddie for a _maybe._

“You’re wrong,” he said. “And even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. Eddie is my best friend and we _live_ together now, for fuck’s sake. I can’t take that chance. We’ve fought before, really fought, and we didn’t speak for months and we made our friends choose sides and it… It was just terrible. There’s no chance in hell I’d risk ruining a perfectly good friendship for something more when all I’d have to do is open my mouth and let the wrong thing come out and it’d all turn to shit so fuckin’ quickly.”

Alex’s forehead creased and she placed her hand on top of Richie’s, clearly trying to express sympathy but just making him feel like shit.

“I’m so fucking in love with him,” Richie breathed, more to himself than to Alex. “And I’m not going to do anything about it.”

Alex sighed. “Can Lily and I at least invite you two over for dinner one day? Eddie seems cool and I’d like to meet him properly.”

Richie pursed his lips. “I suppose. But no funny business. That’s my job.”

“Right, yeah,” she snorted. “Just a buncha gays havin’ a meal. A double date!”

“It’s not a freakin’ date!”

Alex snickered, turning back to her notebook. “It’s definitely a date,” she whispered to herself.

* * *

Getting Richie to be serious, take responsibility for his actions and own up to or talk about his feelings were just about the hardest things Eddie had ever had to do, and he’d kicked a giant demon clown in the face when he was barely five feet tall.

He’d thought that, since they now both knew they liked boys, they could finally address this _thing_ between them. Talk about the casual touching, the looking just for the sake of looking, the _I love you_ s, the unnecessary constant closeness. The fact that, _hello,_ normal best friends don’t hold each others’ hands when just walking around the city and definitely don’t almost kiss on New Year’s fucking Eve.

Of course, they’d always been touchy feely like this, from kids play-fighting in elementary school, hammock-sharing in their teenage years, now couch-sharing and just general space-sharing in their tiny ass apartment. It was _them,_ it wasn’t going to change. But maybe, Eddie thought, it should have changed. Eddie’d never acted like this with Bill because it wasn’t something that normal best friends did. Unless he’d been right all this time and Richie _did_ feel the same way about him and was just too stubborn to say anything. He never seemed to have trouble opening his mouth other times.

Eddie decided then and there, lying in bed early in the morning, watching the sun rise and stream through the bedroom window onto Richie’s sleeping face, that he would have to test this theory.

He formulated a three step plan.

Step one in investigating Richie’s feelings was to stop censoring his language when he talked about Ryan, Travis, chemistry boy, or any other romantic or sexual encounter he had, as a reminder that _Yes, I’m gay, I like boys._ It was quite amusing, actually, watching Richie splutter and stutter when Eddie walked into the apartment sporting a large, dark hickey on his collarbone.

“What the fuck, Eds? Did you fuck a tiger or something?”

Eddie snorted. “No, believe it or not. Bestiality is not one of my kinks.” A small, sly smile crept onto his face watching Richie’s eyes widen like _he_ didn’t talk about kinky shit all the time himself. “No tigers. Just Travis.”

“Travis?” Richie frowned.

“You met him at Lily’s Christmas party. He’s in one of my classes.”

Richie's eyes widened slightly. “You mean…?”

So. Richie _did_ see them on the couch. Eddie smirked. “Oh, yeah. He’s really good with his mouth, in more ways than one. We sure christened Lily’s bathroom.”

“Oh my god, Eds, you little minx.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows at him, but Eddie could tell by the flush crawling up his neck that his words were affecting him. He should have stopped, let Richie be aroused thinking about Eddie getting his dick sucked in peace. But it was just so much _fun._

“Yeah, I suppose I am. Travis’ roommate is also pretty hot, to be honest,” Eddie continued, having not met nor seen Travis’ roommate before. “He’s freakishly tall and has the most gorgeous, pale skin. Like, you can practically see all his veins and shit. It’d be so good to just sink my teeth into that. _And…_ his feet are huge. So, you know.”

Eddie turned and strolled into the kitchen, unable to help the amused grin on his face when Richie didn’t respond.

Step two in Eddie’s plan was to be more obvious with the fact that he was flirting with Richie, so it wasn’t just _Yes, I’m gay, I like boys,_ but also _I like you, dipshit._ He started kissing him on the cheek more often, returning the casual touches when Richie initiated contact between them. Reaching up to hold his hand when Richie threw his arm over his shoulders. Letting his head fall back against Richie’s chest or onto his shoulder whenever he hugged him from behind. Initiating contact himself should have made his intentions obvious, he thought, because it wasn’t the same as when he used to crawl into the hammock when Richie was still in there, making up some excuse or the other for why he was getting up close and personal. This was Eddie reaching out to squeeze Richie’s hand across the table at Chick-Fil-A or opening his arms on the couch, beckoning Richie to come over and cuddle with him while they caught up on the news or whatever trashy television Eddie was forcing him to watch that night. Touching without an excuse, just to touch.

He went to visit Richie at work one time when the end of his class coincided with the end of Richie’s shift. They’d browsed the music store together a few times when Richie first got the job, but it wasn’t like they had a ton of spare money to throw around buying new records or CDs for their car. Sometimes it was easier for Richie to learn to play a new song on his guitar than to justify buying a new single. Eddie certainly did not mind listening to Richie sing.

Richie was setting up a vinyl stand when Eddie walked through the door. His mop of hair popped up at the sound of the bell jingling.

“Spaghetti!” Richie fumbled to get the records on the shelf. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?”

“We finished early,” Eddie said, shrugging.

“And you chose to come see me instead of running off to fuck Travis? Or is it Ryan again? I can’t keep up. Regardless, I’m truly flattered you’re here.”

Eddie wasn’t sure Richie had the right to make digs at his sex life when he knew for a fact that Richie was at least sleeping with one of his friends and the girl from Chick-Fil-A, and Eddie did not come here to talk about his fuck buddies. He walked over to the shelf where Richie was and glanced at the records. “Who the fuck calls their album Dookie?”

“Um, only fuckin’ Green Day. I’m telling ya, Eds - this album may not be selling too good at the moment, but come summertime, when all the cool kids are off school, it’s gonna be flying off the shelves.”

“What are you, a sales expert now?”

Richie clicked his fingers. “You’re right! My talents are being wasted on stage. Time for a change of career.”

Eddie snorted. “Actually, speaking of which, how’s your stand-up thing coming along?”

“Oh! Wanna hear a joke.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Never.” Richie cleared his throat. “So, my coworker came up to me the other day and pulled a photo out of his wallet and he said, ‘this is a picture of me when I was younger’ and I was like, ‘every picture of you is when you were younger!’” Richie paused for dramatic effect and Eddie rolled his eyes, let himself laugh a little. “What do you think? I wanna go for a bit of a theme. Like a story or something to tie the jokes together, but right now the best joke I’ve got is about Cabbage Patch Dolls and even _I_ cannot come up with more than one joke to tell about fuckin’ Cabbage Patch Dolls.”

“I honestly wonder what goes on in your head sometimes.”

“It’s just a running loop of Joey Gladstone’s lines in Full House.”

“Wow, you forfeited an opportunity to make a joke about my mom. You really have grown.”

“I’m far more partial to the Kaspbrak offspring. He, on the other hand, has not grown.”

“Oh, fuck you, Richie.”

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

Eddie stepped forward into Richie’s space. “Maybe I will.”

They stared at each other for a beat too long, Eddie watching Richie’s reactions intently. The bob of his throat as he swallowed. The hand that came up to adjust his glasses that were perfectly positioned on his nose. Eddie knew the signs well enough by now. Richie was nervous, and Eddie just had to prod a little more. He let his eyes dance across Richie’s face, lingering on his lips.

Richie swallowed again, but then he stepped back. “If someone’s getting fucked over here, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me. I’m the one with the big dick that needs to be appreciated.”

Of course, Richie had to go and ruin a perfectly good moment. Eddie scoffed. “Please. I’ve seen you walking around in nothing but underwear. I think I’d know if there was a big dick living in my house.”

“Maybe I’m a grower, not a shower.”

“Maybe we’ve spent enough years talking about your dick and I’ve had enough. Can we go now?”

“I gotta clock off first, hold up.”

Eddie took the time to wander into the shop next to Richie’s workplace, flipping through the new video games that had arrived in the past couple of weeks. When Richie joined him, he brushed straight past Eddie, making a beeline for the t-shirt rack. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Surely you have enough graphic tees,” he groaned.

“You’d think so, but some little asshole keeps stealing them for his pyjamas, so I have to restock.”

“You’re letting an _asshole_ borrow all your clothes as well as me? Jesus, Rich, never took you for a cheater.”

“Aw, Eds, you know I’d never cheat on you. Our lives are far too intertwined for me to settle down with anyone else.” Eddie hated how much his heart fluttered at those words, even though he was _pretty sure_ Richie was joking. Pretty sure. Richie picked out a t-shirt and spun around to face Eddie. “This is the one, eh?”

He was holding a grey shirt with a PlayStation game cartridge on it that said ‘Blow Me’ underneath. Eddie cocked his head, raising his eyebrows like he was considering it as an offer.

“If you behave,” he said simply, turning to walk towards the register with a game he’d grabbed off the shelf.

Richie joined him a few moments later, face and neck flushed red. Eddie smirked. He sure liked being possibly the only one able to catch Richie off guard and keep him quiet. Eddie paid for the game and t-shirt, smiling sweetly at the employee and sneaking a glance at Richie. With his magnifying glasses, it would’ve been hard to miss his dilated pupils, but maybe Eddie was just _that_ in tune with Richie.

“You should wear that later,” Eddie suggested once they were walking down the street, heading home.

“Maybe you should,” Richie countered, obviously off his game.

Eddie hummed, reaching out with his free hand to take Richie’s. “No, definitely you.”

He smirked again when he heard Richie mumble, “Yeah, okay.”

Days turned into weeks and Eddie felt like he wasn’t making an ounce of progress. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong, why Richie wasn’t bringing up all the extra touching and flirting, the sexual comments especially. Maybe Richie was just really fucking stubborn, but then so was Eddie. Maybe they weren’t a good match. Maybe they were perfect for each other.

So, Eddie pulled out the big guns.

His high school track shorts.

He topped them off with one of Richie’s older band t-shirts, one that was a bit smaller and nearly fit Eddie, hugged his shoulders nicely at least, charcoal fabric contrasting well with his red shorts. Richie was at rehearsal, due home shortly, so Eddie had hopped in the shower straight after class and picked out his outfit. Maybe today was the day he finally got something more out of Richie, more than just an intense blush and a quiet mouth.

When Eddie heard bustling outside their door, he took pity on Richie’s clumsy hands and went to open it for him.

“Oh, than— _Oh my god._ ”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow and turned, walked into the apartment, ignoring the burn of Richie’s gaze on his behind and the subsequent burn crawling up his neck to his cheeks. He looked over his shoulder from the kitchen.

“You just gonna stand there all day?”

Richie’s eyebrows had disappeared into his bangs and his lips were parted. He seemed to snap out of it, blinking a few times before he walked in after Eddie, taking his shoes off near the door and dumping his bag next to the kitchen counter.

“You, uh… You been home long?” Richie asked, eyes dancing around the room, looking anywhere except Eddie, who still had half his body turned away from Richie.

“No, just got back. Thought I’d shower and change into something a bit more… comfortable.”

Richie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can see that. Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really. Took a nice, hot shower, so…” he trailed off, flicking on the kettle and opening the fridge, making sure to bend down to get the creamer. “Coffee?”

Richie blinked. “I think I’m gonna, uh, actually—” He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and pointed to the window, walking over before he could even finish his sentence.

Maybe Eddie had taken it too far. God, this was a fucking stupid idea. This was worse than his stupid hand-holding test in Portsmouth, worse than showing off hickeys and talking about sex and joking about having sex _with Richie._ He’d probably creeped him out and was now going to get the cold shoulder, which he probably deserved, until Richie eventually stopped feeling weird around him and things went back to normal.

Step three of Eddie’s plan was to make a move on Richie, but now he was thinking that wasn’t going to happen.

He took his coffee mug into the bedroom, leaving Richie standing by the open window to smoke in peace. He threw on his dressing gown because, yeah, he was a little cold. It was mid-February, he should have waited until a more appropriate time of year to go around flaunting his thighs and ass. Fuck, he was so fucking dumb sometimes.

The fifteen minutes it took for Richie to appear in the doorway was all it took for Eddie’s prior confidence to be ruined. Thoroughly squashed into the floor and ground up with the heel of Richie’s boot or a mortar and pestle or something equally crushing. Eddie looked over at him, wondering if he was about to get called out for all his recent bullshit.

“Alex and Lily invited us over for dinner on Tuesday,” was what Richie said.

Eddie instinctively glanced at the small calendar on his nightstand. Tuesday was the fourteenth. “Sure, I’m not working.”

Richie nodded. “Right. It’s just, uh, _Tuesday_ is… well, um.” He shifted from foot to foot, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he mumbled, eyes darting up to look at Eddie through his lashes.

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. So it is.”

Everything started to fall into place in his head, watching Richie continually adjust his glasses and play with his hair, fingers twitching at his sides even though he’d just had a cigarette. 

Eddie’d had it all wrong. Richie wasn’t stubborn. He was _scared._

“Yes,” Eddie finally said. “Let’s have dinner with them.”

He didn’t say it was a date and neither did Richie, but he didn’t have to. Eddie knew, could tell by the way Richie’s body sagged, breath flowing out of him in some kind of relief, in how the corner of his lips twitched into a smile, that they both felt it. He was already thinking about what he was going to wear – dark wash jeans and a light pink shirt underneath a grey sweater – and what he knew Richie was going to wear, because it was the only nice clothing he owned – navy blue button down tucked into black pants. If it were anyone else, Eddie knew it might have been weird that two boys who were friends and gay would be having dinner on Valentine’s Day with their other gay friends who were a couple. But it wasn’t weird, because it was them. It was Richie and Eddie, the dream team.

Step three was now getting Richie to talk about it.

_Yes, I’m gay, I like boys._

_I like you, dipshit._

_Do you like me, too?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO perhaps you saw I finally put in the number of chapters, which was actually the same as my original number lmao. i just had to shift some scenes around in NY but it is all fixed now. talk about a slow burn whoops.
> 
> Those Melissa Etheridge songs were the actual ones performed at the 94-95 nye and once I listened to them I knew I had to include them in the ball drop scene because hello pining and flirting.
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who knows where “tiger fucker” is from.
> 
> I love reading your comments! Even if it's just a hello or an emoji <3 or if you wanna come say hello I'm on [tumblr](HTTP://bowtiescarves.tumblr.com) occasionally too!


	15. Spaghetti cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March - May 1995. Richie has some vulnerable moments. Eddie tries to make his feelings known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you thought they were stupid and dumb in the previous chapter… have i got a surprise for you lmao
> 
> Some of this angst was planned, some of it just happened, I don’t know how or why I do the things I do. 
> 
> Also. I don’t think I’m a very funny person and I put a lot of effort into Richie’s standup but I still think it sucks so I apologise if it’s not funny, just pretend he’s much funnier than me pls
> 
> Warnings for: mentions of AIDS & past homophobia, throwaway line about cancer, some biphobia and slut-shaming, lotta self hating language. All that good shit.

When Richie was stuck at Tisch every night for a week for an upcoming performance, Eddie found the perfect time to buy his birthday present. This had been nearly two years in the making, now, and he wanted to surprise him. He’d been saving diligently since they got here for this exact moment and he couldn’t risk disappearing for most of the day to acquire the gifts unless he knew Richie wouldn’t be around to notice he was gone.

Eddie took out the little slip of paper from his wallet, glancing at the names and prices listed there. Richie was going to lose his fucking mind.

Closing night for Tisch’s show was, surprisingly, on a Sunday, and since he had class Monday morning, Eddie opted to attend the Saturday night performance instead. It was some play called Angels in America that he’d never heard of before but enjoyed even more than anything Richie was in at Derry High because these kids could actually act. It was a two-part show, each part with two acts, and the drama club had structured it so they would learn, rehearse and perform one act per month, bringing them to the end of the semester with a full, four-hour show. In May, they’d also perform a musical, so Eddie was beginning to understand why Richie was always so stressed about his performances.

The choice of play felt a bit on the nose, the story following the lives of a group of gay men, several with AIDS. Watching so many boys kissing in the span of one hour had Eddie’s head spinning. Richie somehow wound up playing the lead character, Prior, probably because it was the role with the most laughable lines, and Richie always pulled those off so well. Prior was a drag queen, flamboyant with hands constantly flying around, and when the lights came on about halfway through the show and Richie was dressed in actual drag, Eddie’s lungs nearly flew out of his body through his throat.

“One wants to go through life with… elegance… grace… blossoming infrequently, but with exquisite taste. Perfect timing. Just like a rare bloom. A zebra orchid. One wants… but one so seldom gets what one wants, doesn’t one?”

The set was rotating, bringing Richie into full view, donned in a low cut, pastel dress and pearl necklace, a headband of flowers perched in his hair, and eyeshadow so intense Eddie was sure the people in the back of the room could see the glitter.

“No. One does not. One gets fucked over! One  _ dies _ at thirty,  _ robbed _ of decades of majesti—” Richie yanked the headband off and threw it at the floor. “Fuck this shit!” he groaned, dramatically flopping into a chair behind a desk. “Fuck this shit. I look like a corpse.” He picked up the headband off the floor and straightened the petals, slipping it back onto his head. “Corpsette!” The audience laughed, Eddie along with them. “Oh, my queen. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when even drag is a drag.”

Eddie had driven to the theatre so he could get Richie home quickly after the show, knowing how exhausted he’d be and how dangerous the subway was at night. Richie had been chattering non-stop as they walked to the car and started driving, but was now resting his head against the window, the adrenaline crash hitting hard.

“One more show,” Eddie reminded him. “Then you can sleep all you want.”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, right. I get three whole days of respite before Blackwood gives us act two. Plus, I’ve still got my comedy routine running through my head all the time.” He rubbed at his temples. “I feel like my head’s gonna explode.”

“Could you roll the window down, at least? Don’t want that shit all over the seats.”

Richie chuckled quietly and let his eyes flutter shut.

Eddie sighed, mind drifting back to the characters in the play again. “Can you imagine what it was like for people like us ten years ago?” he whispered, unsure if Richie was listening or if he’d fallen asleep already. “Not even thinking about Derry, just out in the rest of the world. So much stigma, so much sickness. Fuck, my mom has a lot to answer for. She fucking ruined my early teenage years.” Richie hummed. “God, Rich, I can’t even… Imagine being a gay, young adult in the early eighties. Or bisexual. Did people even know what that was then?”

He snuck a glance across to Richie, whose eyes were open again, staring straight ahead. Eddie licked his lips, slowly taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and hold Richie’s, thumb rubbing slowly over his knuckles.

“And Derry,  _ fuck. _ Being pushed around and chased and beaten just because we were close friends. Because I didn’t like to get dirty and I had a high-pitched voice. Do you know how many times I stood in front of the mirror and hated myself for being so small and feminine? It took so many self pep talks to get to the point where I even tried out for the track team. Some of the guys laughed when I showed up for tryouts. Like they couldn’t possibly associate sports and masculinity with being gay. And they didn’t even  _ know. _ Even  _ I _ barely fucking knew. They were just talking out of their asses, listening to what Bowers’ gang used to say. Once I got on the team, though, they knew they couldn’t touch me. I was their star runner. But I could see it in their eyes, Rich. They wanted me out of their sight, off the team, never to be seen again.”

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand and he looked over, found Richie watching him, brows creased with worry. “I never knew you had to deal with that, Eds. I’m so sorry.”

They arrived at their building and Eddie parked the car. He shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you guys.”

“Eds,” Richie sounded choked up, “You could have talked to me. We used to tell each other everything. We…”

“What?”

Richie shook his head. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Eddie sighed. There was no point in pushing, trying to convince Richie to talk about something he didn’t want to, especially when he was this tired and especially on this topic. Eddie could wait. He knew Richie would come around eventually. “Okay. Let’s go inside. You must be exhausted.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to carry me up the stairs, star track runner.”

“Shut up, I should have never said that.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

Richie grinned. “Nah, it’s good, openin’ up to me. You hardly ever talk about your feelings.” He huffed out a laugh. “And  _ I’m _ supposed to be the repressed comedian here.”

Eddie did end up carrying Richie up one flight of stairs on his back, Richie’s unnecessarily long legs dangling close to the floor. He was lucky Eddie was as strong as he was.

“Alright, star theatre performer. It’s bedtime for you,” Eddie said.

“You gonna tuck me in, Eds?” Richie slurred, sleep weighing heavy on him already.

“If you want to be treated like a baby, maybe I’ll have to spank you, too.”

“Ooh, I jus’ might like that.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. Night, Eds. Love you.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, but he knew it was just Richie’s half-asleep idiocy talking. Still. “Good night, Rich. Love you, too.”

The night before Richie’s birthday was the first night they could actually get down to The Ponyboy for the open mic night. They were standing around the side of the stage, waiting for the other performers to do their bits, Richie’s ten-minute block scheduled towards the end of the night.

“Food is pretty unanimously well-liked, right?” Richie asked, bouncing on his toes.

“Yes, Rich. I’ve told you this a hundred times already. It’s funny.  _ You’re  _ funny. You’re gonna be great.”

“I dunno, Eds. Some people might not like me poking fun at salad so much.”

“Hey, you wrote those jokes about me and I laughed my ass off—”

“That’s too bad; I liked your ass.”

“Richie,” Eddie chastised, “ _Stop. _ And stop worrying.”

Richie exhaled deeply. “I need to warm up. Let me practice a joke on you. Just one! A random food joke that isn’t in the set.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “If it gets you to settle down, fine.”

Richie rolled his shoulders back. “Hey, do you wanna come over and look at this dried fruit I got?” He paused for effect so Eddie nodded. “Cool, it’s a date.”

“That’s terrible,” Eddie said, but he was smiling, and his smile caught on to Richie until they were both grinning stupidly.

“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this.” The person on stage finished their set so the two of them joined the audience in applauding, though they hadn’t been listening at all. “I’m next,” Richie breathed.

The host came back on stage with his clipboard and Richie started bouncing again. “Next up,” the host read from the sheet, “A drama major with a knack for badly timed mom jokes, please welcome, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier.”

Eddie snorted. “Toe-zee-er.” He shook his head fondly, leaned in and pressed his lips to Richie’s cheek, nearly touching the corner of his mouth. “Go get ‘em, Rich.” He walked out to the table where Alex and Lily were sitting. The girls were watching the stage intently. Eddie’s heart swelled with pride when Richie somehow managed to correct the host for mispronouncing his name without sounding like an asshole and also making some audience members laugh.

“Now, in real life, I tend to consider myself a pretty funny guy, but writing jokes down? Whole different story.” Eddie had heard this set, he wasn’t kidding, probably a hundred times, and subconsciously started to mouth along as Richie spoke. “Firstly, I have to be able to decipher my own damn handwriting. You know? I write like a typical eighteen-year-old dude. Fuckin’ illegible! Which is fine, ‘cause I’m an actor, a performer, I don’t need to know how to write cursive. Maybe I should be a doctor instead.”

Every time the audience laughed, even just a couple of people, Eddie could see Richie’s face light up.

“Once I finally did begin to write down the things I said that got laughs out of people, including my frankly  _ brilliant _ impersonations, I then started to think about having some kind of theme for this. Not like a moral or lesson, per se, but, uh, ‘ow you say, I’mma bit of a narcissistic arsehole an’ I wanna be rememba’d, yeah? Nah yeah, ton _oi_ ght I’m gonna talk ta youse about, you guessed it, lettuce.”

Eddie chuckled at Richie’s awful Australian accent as a few surprised bursts of laughter came from around the room, including their friends next to him, and he bit down on his bottom lip, knowing what was coming next.

“What,” Richie began, “The actual fuck is a Cabbage Patch Kid? Is it just like a doll inside a head of green leaves? Can you imagine being at the grocery store and buying yourself some delicious cabbage, only to cut it open and find, oh  _ shit, _ a baby inside? Like ‘man, I really wanted a salad but I guess I’m getting a kid instead’.”

Alex and Lily were shaking with laughter that sounded around the room, Eddie included, despite knowing the next part of the set was just making digs at him.

“Speaking of salad: what the hell? You know when you go to the pub and you order a burger and if it’s a nice pub, you get to choose your sides. Well, get this. My roommate always picks salad. And when there’s no option, he actually pays  _ more money _ to switch the fries for salad. Who the—? Let me just— This is a PSA: grass is to be mowed, not eaten.”

Someone in the audience cheered, earning a finger-snap and wink from Richie.

“My roommate is also a weirdo because he drinks black coffee. Raise your hand if you also drink black coffee.” Eddie’s hand flew up. “Security, please escort these people from the premises. I don’t need that kind of negativity here. You know what they say - coffee is the most important meal of the day. A yawn is just a silent scream for coffee.”

When Richie’s set was over, several members of the audience cheered, and Eddie, Alex and Lily stood up. Eddie cupped his hands around his mouth and whooped like he did every time he attended one of Richie’s performances. He saw Richie’s mop of hair moving through the crowd of tables and rushed over into his arms, throwing his own around Richie’s neck and letting himself be lifted off the floor with an embarrassing squeal.

“See,” Eddie grumbled into Richie’s neck, “What did I tell you? Everyone loved you.”

Richie set him down and looked at him with shining eyes. “Hell yeah, they did! I was fuckin’ born to be on stage.”

“You so were. Some people laughed so hard I’d bet they’ll come back next month in the hopes that you’re here.”

“Really? You think I was that good?”

Eddie gave him a gentle smile. “Yeah. You were so good, Rich,” he said softly. Richie stared at him for a few moments longer, eyes dancing around behind his glasses, all over Eddie’s face, and Eddie tried not to focus on them lingering on his lips. A blush crept up on Richie’s cheeks and he looked away, over to where the girls were standing by the table.

“Ladies!” Richie exclaimed, throwing his hands up as they came over. “How’d you like the show? Pretty good, eh?”

Eddie’s eyes dropped to the floor while Alex teased Richie for making so many jokes at Eddie’s expense in normal life and on stage, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach when Richie’s arm somehow ended up around his waist.

Eventually, the girls had to head off and Richie then remembered what Eddie had said earlier in the evening when they were on their way to the venue.

“So, I did a good job, you say? Does that mean I get my early birthday present?” Richie asked while Eddie drove them home.

“Yes, I suppose it qualifies,” Eddie teased.

“Ooh, can I guess? Is it a stripper?”

“Oh, sure. Because I could’ve just called her off on the chance the show was a flop.”

“Firstly, doesn’t have to be a her; you can enjoy yourself, too.” Eddie could feel himself blushing. “Second, there’s no way in hell I’d be a comedic flop, Eds, you know this.”

“Where do you think the whole ‘beep beep’ thing originated? You’re not always funny, Tozier. You just have your moments. That’s why you needed me to proof-listen to every joke that ended up making it onto that stage tonight. You’d be lost without me.”

“Ain’t that the truth, Spaghetti.”

Richie practically bounded up the stairs to their apartment, fumbling with his keys in his clumsy hands until Eddie rolled his eyes and shoved him out of the way to unlock the door himself.

“You stay here,” Eddie instructed, pointing to the couch, “While I grab your gifts.”

“Gifts?” Richie raised his voice while Eddie went into their bedroom to get the presents from the cupboard. “Multiple gifts? Eds, you shouldn’t have.”

“No, you’re right, I shouldn’t have. I don’t know why I did, honestly. You’re the worst roommate in the world. I should give you back and get a refund.”

Richie laughed. “That’s good, can I steal that for next month’s set? I’ll tweak it a bit so I don’t have to give you credit. Can’t have people thinking I don’t write my own material.”

Eddie poked his head into the room. “Okay, I’m ready for you. You can come in now.”

“Ready for me, eh?” Richie hopped up from the couch and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t make me further regret buying you all this shit,” Eddie groaned. “I should have just opened a savings account instead.” He pointed to Richie’s bed this time, gesturing for him to sit down while he pulled the first, large, wrapped box from the cupboard.

Richie clapped his hands together, legs kicking excitedly over the edge of the bed. “Ooh, ooh! Looks heavy. Need a hand, shortstack?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m stronger than you.” Eddie laid the box at Richie’s feet, voice softer and fonder when he spoke again. “Happy birthday, dickhead.”

Richie grinned, tore at the wrapping paper like he was a ten-year-old, revealing the mahogany Gibson Les Paul he’d test-played in Portsmouth. His head snapped up to look Eddie in the eyes with some kind of wonder on his face, lips parted ever so slightly. “ _Eds._ ” Eddie turned around and pulled the next gift from the wardrobe, hearing Richie inhale a shaky breath behind him. “You didn’t,” Richie breathed.

“I did.”

There was no mistaking the size and shape of the amplifier Richie’d tested with the guitar, and the smaller, lighter present Eddie placed on the top drew a soft whine from Richie’s mouth.

“Eddie, this is too much. The amp and pedal, too? This would’ve cost a fortune.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, because it did. “But it’s worth it to see you so happy like this.”

Richie stared at him for a moment. “I’m feeling a strong sense of  déjà vu. My asshole is tingling.”

Eddie snorted, his lips curved into a smile. “That's what you said to me when I questioned you about the price of the Whitney Houston tickets.”

“How the fuck do you remember that?”

Eddie shrugged.  _ I’d just realised that I was in love with you and that trip solidified my feelings and I started thinking maybe you liked me back. _ “That trip was special to me,” he said. He watched Richie’s jaw clench and unclench a few times, before he bent down to open the presents. Staring at them for a few moments, strewn across the floor, Eddie was prepared for his emotional friend to start crying any second, bracing himself for the onslaught of hugs and tears that was undoubtedly about to occur.

But Richie stood up slowly, stepped forward to slip his arms around Eddie’s waist and pull him close. “Thank you, Eds,” he whispered into his hair. Eddie’s back arched when he wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck, cupping the back of his head with one hand. This had to be his favourite place, in Richie’s arms like this. There was no comparison to be drawn to anywhere else in the world, nowhere he felt more safe and happy and loved as he did with Richie. Eddie sighed, content to stand here until dawn. Eventually, Richie pulled back to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, nearly touching the corner of his mouth, not unlike the kiss Eddie had given him just earlier that evening. Richie knocked their foreheads together gently. “You really shouldn’t have blown all your savings on me, but I appreciate these things so much, you have no idea.”

“I remember watching your face light up when you saw that guitar in the store. I remember the sounds you made when you strummed the first note and how your eyes shone when we sang Hungry Like The Wolf together.” Eddie smiled, brushed his fingers through Richie’s hair. “I think I have some idea.”

The next evening, on Richie’s actual birthday, Eddie wanted to spoil him some more, but he knew, realistically, after he’d just spent more than a thousand dollars on Richie’s presents that fifty bucks on a nice meal was not something to laugh at. So, they ended up at one of the little restaurants near campus that they always walked by and always said they should try one day. Richie chose a place called Bowllin’, saying he wanted greasy food and made a stupid joke about Eddie being about the right size to use as a bowling ball.

“If you threw me down the alley, I’d make sure I rolled into the fucking gutter every time and you’d get no points for the entire game.”

They were seated in a booth next to an empty bowling alley that Richie looked down longingly. “Where’s the fun in that, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie clenched his jaw, fiddled with his napkin. “Just because you’re getting a free pass on nicknames today doesn’t mean you have to abuse the privilege.”

“Aw, why you gotta ruin my day, Spaghetti Man? It’s my birthday, Eds. Be nice to me, Doctor K.” Richie was smirking and Eddie wanted to simultaneously slap and kiss that smile right off his face. Their food arrived – large pepperoni pizza and fries to share, as per Richie’s grease request. Eddie refrained from ordering a salad as well. “This is good shit,” Richie said through a mouthful.

“God, you’re disgusting. What have I told you about talking with your mouth full? You’re going to spit your gross germs all over our food and get me sick somehow. I’m perfectly happy with  _ my _ oral microbes and don’t need your unbrushed teeth spitting foreign bacteria into my fucking dinner.” Richie’s eyes crinkled as he watched Eddie with a stupid, dumb, utterly ridiculous fond expression on his face. “What the fuck are you looking at?” Eddie snapped. Richie stared at him a little longer, probably longer than it should have taken to formulate a response to Eddie’s question that wasn’t even a real question. Eddie thought he knew exactly what Richie was thinking when he looked at him like that, but he wanted to hear him say it, wanted to  _ know _ if he was right.

Something flashed across Richie’s eyes and he sat back against the booth seat, picking up another slice of pizza and dropping his gaze from Eddie’s face. “Nothin’, Eds.”

Eddie’s hand flew out to grab Richie’s before he was out of reach. “What?” he asked again, softer this time.

Richie blinked, ran his tongue across his bottom lip and drew it in between his teeth. He let out a short breath, and when he spoke, he almost sounded confused as the words came out of his mouth, like he couldn’t believe he was saying it. “You’re just… You’re so beautiful?”

Eddie’s eyes softened, his breath hitched and got caught in his chest. “Like at prom?”

Richie’s eyes started to widen and Eddie squeezed where he was still holding his hand, trying to tell him without using words that it was okay, that he wanted to hear it. Richie nodded slowly, still looking unsure of himself, so Eddie allowed his mouth to curve into a small smile. Richie’s eyes darted back and forth between Eddie’s like he was searching, trying to find something there, and he must have found it, because he returned Eddie’s smile and squeezed his hand.

“Come on,” Eddie said, “Let’s eat, before this all gets cold.”

Richie, as it turned out, was surprisingly good at bowling. Eddie put it down to good luck, because there was no way someone as uncoordinated and weak as Richie could be good at bowling, better than Eddie, even. He only lost by twenty points, but it was enough for him to huff and cross his arms and pretend to ignore Richie for a few minutes while they gathered their things and left the building.

As soon as they stepped onto the street, Richie was lighting a cigarette and Eddie shook his head. “What is it going to take to get you to quit that shit? I refuse to be responsible for you when you get lung cancer. I won’t even visit you in hospital. And given our financial situation, don’t you think you should at least try quitting?”

Richie tutted. “Now, Spaghetti, how in the heck is that fair? You spend a grand on my birthday present and I’m not allowed to spend five dollars a week on smokes?”

Eddie started waving his hand in front of his face. “Okay, no, no, no. Firstly, that is so not cool. I saved  _ vigilantly _ for  _ years _ to get you that shit. You don’t need to be ungrateful, dickhead.”

“I’m not being ungrateful. I am, in fact, extremely fucking grateful. So grateful, I’d kiss you, Spagheds.”

“And secondly,” Eddie barrelled on, “Five dollars a week for a whole year is two hundred and sixty dollars, and you’ve been smoking for, what, over five years? That’s just as fucking expensive as your damn present.”

“ _Eds,_ ” Richie drawled, “We all have our vices.”

“You have enough vices for both of us. You and your cigarettes and whisky and weed. Not to mention sex.”

“Someone mention sex? ‘Cause,  _ boy, _ I’ve gotta tell you, there’s actually a bit of a queue—”

“Hey, some of us weren’t able to fuck around in high school because of the, you know, fucking homophobic bullshit we had to deal with. I bet we’ve hooked up with the same number of people since coming to New York.”

Richie stopped walking and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? You been fuckin’ around, Eds?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You screamed when Bill told us he kissed Bev the first time because of germ sharing!”

“I was fourteen! I’ve definitely touched more dicks than you.”

“That’s not hard, ‘cause I—” Richie doubled over and started laughing at himself. Eddie tried to fight his smile but it was futile.

“How do you still have the fucking humour of a twelve-year-old?!”

Richie grinned at him. “It’s all part of my charm, Eds!”

Eddie slipped his hand in the crook of Richie’s elbow as they continued walking, still smiling like an idiot in love, which he supposed he was. They were walking past their Chick-Fil-A when the door opened and a couple came out, almost bumping into them. Eddie opened his mouth to snap at them for not watching where they were going just as Richie began apologising for getting in their way, but something must have shocked him because he stopped walking abruptly and caused Eddie to be yanked back where they were still attached at the arm.

The couple turned around, the girl’s long, brown ponytail nearly whipping Eddie in the eyes, and then he came face to face with a stunning boy with five o’clock shadow to die for. It took him a moment, but Eddie realised who the girl was, probably because they’d come out of Chick-Fil-A and that was where Martia worked. He then realised that Richie had slept with this girl and this boy she was with was probably her boyfriend and Richie was about to be in deep shit.

“Anton, hey,” Richie said, which surprised Eddie even more. Martia looked between Richie and Eddie, then back to Richie, the corner of her lips twitching into a smile, while the guy, Anton, was staring straight at where Eddie’s hand was tucked into Richie’s arm. Richie was also glancing between the couple, his eyes not lingering on either of them for more than a second. Eddie felt Richie’s muscles tense under his hand, so he gave his bicep a gentle squeeze, just reminding him he was here, even if he were confused as all hell.

“Richie,” Martia said, the smile on her face growing, and Anton turned to look at her.

“You know Richie?” he asked, brows furrowing with as much confusion as Eddie felt.

Martia nodded, still just smiling away like her boyfriend (maybe not?) wasn’t meeting her fuck buddy. “Yeah, he and Eddie come to my work.” She pointed her chin in his direction, causing Anton to then turn on Eddie, eyes scrutinising as he looked him up and down.

“I’m Richie’s roommate,” Eddie explained, not sure why he felt the need to do so.

“And how do you guys know each other?” Richie asked, and Eddie could tell he was trying to keep his voice light, succeeding mostly.

Anton answered, “Martia’s my sister.”

Richie tensed again, voice nearly cracking on, “Sister?” And okay, now Eddie needed to know what the fuck was going on. “ _Fuck,_ ” Richie breathed.

“Wait, how do  _ you _ know Richie?” Martia turned to her  _ brother, _ apparently. Her—

Oh. Eddie thought he knew what was happening now.

The air between the group was thick, Anton and Martia staring at each other, having some kind of silent, sibling conversation with their eyes, while Richie’s wide eyes darted frantically between them. He turned to Eddie.

“Fuck,” Richie whispered again, and Eddie was about to suggest they just leave when the siblings seemed to catch up with the conversation and Martia turned on Richie.

“You’re gay?!” she cried, yanking her arm back and stepping away from the group. “You’re gay and you’re fucking  _him?_ ”

“Martia, I had no idea—”

“No, save your breath,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I-I’m not entirely gay,” Richie tried again, reaching out to her. “I still—”

Anton stepped forward and slapped Richie’s hand away. “Oh, so you can’t choose sides now, is that it? You’re sleeping with me  _ and _ my sister, getting the best of both worlds, huh? You’re such a fucking whore, Tozier,” Anton spat. “You know, all those times you came over, once Martia was actually  _ home. _ Can you  _ imagine _ if she…”

“He always took me back to his,” Martia said.

“Is that so? So, you’re happy to let your obviously gay as fuck roommate see you with a girl, but you didn’t want me anywhere near him after that first time he nearly walked in on us and— Oh, I bet you’re fucking  _ him, _ too!” Anton stepped into Richie’s space, hands raised like he was above to shove Richie’s chest, so Eddie darted in the way and held up his forearm, pressed it hard against Anton’s collarbones. His blood was boiling and he was close to just decking the guy if he said another word against Richie.

“Step the fuck back,” Eddie snarled, narrowing his eyes.

Anton just chuckled, voice low and dark, and looked Eddie up and down again. “Wow, he does have a type. Jealous little puppy, much?”

“Just stay the fuck away from Richie.”

“Eds…”

Martia grabbed her brother by the shoulders and pulled him away from Eddie, who refused to be the one to break eye contact. Anton’s lip curled up but he let his sister manhandle him. She’d stopped crying, eyes still red but jaw set with anger.

“You’re a real jerk, Richie. I don’t ever want to see you again,” she said, turning on her heel and stalking off.

Anton stayed a moment longer before he spat, quite literally, at Richie’s feet. “Count me out, too. Fucking bisexual slut.”

Eddie was prepared to hold Richie back if he went after them to run his mouth off, but when he turned to look at him once Anton was far enough away, Eddie was met with Richie’s hollow eyes staring after them, his usually expressive face now eerily blank. Eddie expected him to be crying, but his eyes weren’t even shiny behind his glasses.

“Don’t fucking listen to those dickheads. They don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.” Richie still stared after them, not even looking at Eddie. Eddie exhaled deeply, stepping closer to Richie and taking his hand, trying a different approach. “Rich? You can’t listen to anything they said, honey.” The pet name just slipped out but still, Richie didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t say anything at all. “You are nothing like those things they called you. They’re full of shit, you know that, right?”

There was a long moment where Eddie couldn’t hear anything over the beating of his own heart, before Richie spoke. “No,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “They’re completely right. I’m a jerk and a whore and I don’t deserve them or anyone.” He finally looked down at Eddie. “Least of all you.”

Eddie shook his head. “No. Stop that. Cut that shit out right now.” A gust of wind rushed into them and Richie shivered slightly. “We’re going home and we’re going to talk about this.”

“Whatever you say, Eds.”

“No, Richie, I—” He stopped himself, reminded himself that this was Richie’s business and therefore Richie’s decision, and if Richie’s choice was to go home and watch shitty late-night television and never talk about this again, Eddie had to respect that. He couldn’t control everything Richie did. “Okay. Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t.”

Richie raised a brow. “Really? You’d give in that easily?”

“Yes.” Eddie nodded. “It’s about you, not me, not what I want.”

Thinking and doing were two very different things, something Eddie discovered very quickly on the walk and train ride home, itching to prompt Richie to speak whatever was on his mind. He supposed he’d chosen the right career path. It was only once they were back home, sitting side by side on Richie’s bed, Eddie’s hands folded in his lap to stop himself reaching out and using Richie’s affinity for contact against him, when Richie finally spoke up.

“There’s something I never told anyone,” Richie whispered. “Something about It.”

Eddie suppressed a shiver, fingers yearning to take Richie’s hand. “What did It do?” He bit his lip, just allowing them to sit in silence for a few moments while Richie gathered his thoughts.

“I… I had a crush on Connor Bowers and Henry saw us together one time. He chased me out of the arcade and I was so distraught, I ran all the way to the park with the Paul Bunyan statue.” Richie was still whispering, voice hitching around words occasionally. “Th-then It appeared, told me not to touch the other boys or everyone would know my dirty little secret. I—” He took in a shaky breath. “I was so scared that you’d all find out the truth and you’d think I was—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. Richie, you’re…” Eddie turned to face him, taking both of his hands in his now because he felt like he would die if he didn’t get to hold Richie at a time like this. “You’re perfect the way that you are. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until you believe it. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I know you were talking about the past, this shit you thought when you were thirteen, but what Anton and Martia said… I know you, Rich, and for all your jokes about being attractive and charming, I know you don’t actually think that… You forget I’m studying psychology.”

“Please don’t evaluate my brain, Eds.” Richie’s voice was weak and Eddie could feel his heart break at the sound. “I promise you will not like what you find.”

Eddie’s brows pinched together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie sighed. “You have to listen to me. Anton and Martia were way out of line.”

“I guess. They probably didn’t need to be so harsh about breaking whatever the fuck off with me.” Richie huffed a humourless laugh. “I wish I could go back and give them a piece of my mind. Though I’d probably just end up yelling at myself for sleeping with fucking  _ twins._”

“No, it’s not yourself you should be yelling at – it’s them. They’re the ones who said all that horrible shit to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I think I kinda did. I just let myself get carried away, forgetting that there are people in New York just like people in Derry. Fucking bigots. But I just  _ had  _ to go slut myself up for them. Jesus Christ.” Richie dropped his face into his hands, sliding his glasses onto his head. “I wish I could just fucking go back in time and tell myself not to flirt with her and not to dance with him and just fucking—just fucking shut up sometimes! Fuck!”

Eddie stared at him for a long moment. “Okay.” He reached over and opened Richie’s nightstand drawer, grabbing his spare glasses. He picked up one of Richie’s patterned shirts from the floor, putting both items on and running his hands through his hair to mess it up. “You wanna yell at yourself? Go for it. Let me have it.”

Richie stayed on the bed, staring up at Eddie blankly. His jaw clenched and unclenched, breathing louder, until he stood up and shoved Eddie in the chest. “Fuck you, Richie.”

Eddie stumbled, seeing the strange mixture of blazing anger and hatred in Richie’s eyes, and swallowed. “Is that all you got? Do your worst.” Richie’s top lip quivered. He looked down at his hands and back up at Eddie, possibly regretting pushing him, but Eddie wasn’t going to have it. “Come on, Tozier,” he said, grabbing Richie’s hands and pushing them against his chest. “Fucking pussy.”

“No, fuck you!” Richie cried. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re nothing but—but a useless disappointment, no fucking wonder your parents don’t love you. You—” Richie sucked in a breath and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “People meet you and you seem so charming in the beginning and then it just becomes  _ shut up, enough already_! Dad was fucking right; you’re going to be alone forever, Richie.”

Eddie distinctly remembered thinking, one time many years ago, how strange it was that Richie could talk so much without actually  _ saying _ anything. He supposed now that all those years of built-up, repressed emotions were coming out, and they were coming out in sobs, a never-ending stream of tears flowing down Richie’s cheeks and his hands smacking against Eddie’s chest.

“You’re not gay enough for Anton and yo-you couldn’t just fucking be straight for Martia. You’re a fucking mess!” He pounded one fist against Eddie’s chest. “You hurt them! You hurt Emily! You knew she was in love with you and you led her on and slept with her anyway. Why couldn’t you just love her back? Everything would have been so much easier if you just— loved someone else!”

Eddie’s eyes were now burning with tears, heart and lungs contracting every time Richie spat out another insult at himself. “Richie,” he managed to croak out, pulling the glasses off his face to see clearly. Richie’s cheeks were red and blotchy with tear-tracks running down them, large eyes raw and bloodshot, mouth hanging open in a permanent frown. Eddie’s heart ached. When did their resident jokester become so sad?

Eddie dropped the glasses to the floor and brought both hands up to grip either side of Richie’s head, fingers automatically tangling through his hair.

“Richie,” he tried again. “You are loved. You are so loved. I love you so much.”

_ Understand. Please understand. _

“No,” Richie said, voice hoarse and broken, “Don’t say shit like that, Eds, w-when you don’t— _ fuck._”

“It’s not— God, Rich, sweetheart, it’s not shit, it’s  _ true._” Richie whimpered at the pet name, ducking his head down as Eddie leaned up and knocked their foreheads and noses together. Richie’s lips were a breath away and Eddie wanted to kiss them, wanted to push Richie backwards and press him into the mattress and show him how much he was loved. He knew he couldn’t, not now, but his body ached to hold Richie, to touch him and love him the way he deserved.

Moving one hand to press gently against Richie’s chest, Eddie guided them back to a sitting position on Richie’s bed, this time with Richie’s back against his front with his head to the side, nuzzled into Eddie’s neck. He carded his fingers through Richie’s hair again, willing the motion to soothe him. The crying subsided and soon Richie’s breathing had returned to a normal rate and volume, so Eddie leaned back against the headboard and pulled him so they could lie down. 

“You don’t need to love anyone else, Richie,” Eddie whispered, suspecting Richie had fallen asleep and partially hoping he hadn’t. “I promise you, they love you back. They just… don’t know how to express it.”

He was still wearing Richie’s shirt, now drenched in tears. Eddie reached down to pick up Richie’s glasses and folded them on the nightstand, flipping the lamp off and relaxing into the bed. He would tell him soon, properly, once he’d built up the courage. He knew he’d have to, for Richie would never make the first move, even if prompted. Eddie knew that any progression from this weird limbo into a proper… relationship, he supposed, they would be boyfriends (and how his heart pounded at that thought) – it would have to be all him. Now he just had to work on finding that courage within himself.

* * *

To say Richie was confused would have been the understatement of the fucking decade.

For starters, he had no idea where he was or how he got here. His eyes were still closed and his brain hadn’t quite woken up yet, still a little foggy and drowsy. All he could feel were warm arms around him and a pillow under his head, but there was a blank spot in his memory after dinner and bowling with Eddie.

_ Eddie. _

They’d run into Anton and Martia, that was right, and Richie…

Well, fuck.

Richie had broken down like he never had before in front of anyone, said things he’d never admitted to another soul, only ever making their way out of his head in illegible scrawl in the form of song lyrics, cried so much his fucking abdominal muscles hurt. He honestly wasn’t sure where it all came from, some things he hadn’t wasted time thinking about in months, some things had never truly left his mind.

And now Eddie knew it all. Richie might have liked it better if Eddie had found his fucking songbook, because at least then he wouldn’t have to  _ talk _ about it.

The things that confused Richie more than the fact that Eddie had fallen asleep in Richie’s bed, wearing Richie’s clothes, having not brushed his teeth or followed his strict nightly routine, were some of the things Eddie had said, not just last night, but recently. If Richie weren’t mistaken, if it had been anyone else, he would have said Eddie was flirting with him. But that was ridiculous, Richie knew. He  _ knew_… but what he  _ felt _ was Eddie’s arms around him, his fond gaze whenever they locked eyes across the kitchen table, his chapped lips against Richie’s forehead or cheek when he left for work or class. Richie felt… loved. He felt loved by Eddie. He didn’t know how else to explain it.

But there was no way in hell what he was feeling was what Eddie intended when he did those things. Eddie had always been so forthcoming – if he had feelings for Richie, he would have said something by now, surely. The only reason Eddie would choose to  _ not _ voice what was on his mind was if he thought it would genuinely hurt someone. Eddie may have been a whiny little bitch who would complain about everything under the sun, but he cared more than he knew how to express, and Richie knew this—

He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply, breathing in Eddie’s morning smell.

_ “You don’t need to love anyone else.” _

It must have been something Richie dreamed. That was the only explanation.

He shook his head slightly, nose rubbing back and forth against Eddie’s neck until he stirred.

“Mm?” Eddie mumbled. “Wha’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, nothin’, Eds. Just…” He ducked his head and pressed his nose against Eddie’s collarbone, snaking his arms around his waist and squeezing gently.

Eddie pulled back a little to look down at Richie, moving one hand to brush softly against Richie’s face until he glanced up and met his eyes. “Aren’t you just the sweetest when you’re sleepy? The only time I can get some peace and quiet.”

The corner of Richie’s lips curved up. “Spaghetti cuddles are always a good way to shut me up,” he said, completely honest.

Eddie hummed thoughtfully. “We should do this more often then.”

Richie’s eyes searched Eddie’s face, not sure exactly what he was looking for or expecting to find. But he wasn’t about to turn down an offer like that. “Yeah, we should,” he whispered.

Eddie was nothing if not stubborn and true to his word.

Richie ended up applying to the Domino’s down the road when he found out they needed people working evenings and nights. It meant he had several late finishes for the next few weeks, only getting home while Eddie was getting ready for bed, but after Eddie’s splurge on Richie’s birthday presents, they kind of needed the money.

“It should be me picking up more work or an extra job, not you,” Eddie complained from their bedroom, the first time Richie came home after ten. “I was the idiot who spent most of my savings on your stupid, bony ass.”

“I’ll have you know, my ass is no longer as bony as it once was. What’s your diagnosis, Doctor K? Too much late-night fast food?” Richie wandered into the bedroom, dumping his bag by the bedroom door and throwing himself across Eddie’s lap, where he was sitting and reading… on Richie’s bed. “Whatcha doin’ here, Eds? Got bed bugs? Having nightmares?”

“Don’t fucking talk about bed bugs like that! You’ll jinx it!”

“Aw, I guess you’ll just have to sleep here with me, then, won’t ya?”

Eddie glared at him, a soft flush rising to his cheeks. “Why the fuck do you think I’m here, dipshit?” he mumbled.

Richie blinked. “Well, there ain’t gonna be enough room here once your mom joins me later.”

“You know what? Forget it.” Eddie shut his book and squirmed, trying to shove Richie off his lap.

“No, no!” Richie scrambled to sit up and grab Eddie’s hand, cursing his stupid mouth. “Stay, please? You… You can stay.” They stared at each other for a moment until Eddie’s expression relaxed, shoulders dropping with a sigh. “You know, we aren’t little kids anymore. It’s gonna be a tight squeeze, both of us in here.”

“I know,” Eddie said, a small teasing smile growing on his face. “You’ll just have to spoon me, then. Won’t ya?”

“Jeez, Eds, buy a guy dinner first.” Richie joked, but he was sure Eddie would be able to feel his heart racing as he stripped off his jeans and slid into bed in his t-shirt and boxers, Eddie’s soft pyjama pants rubbing against his legs. Eddie turned away from him, facing the wall and scooting back, taking Richie’s arm and pulling it across his waist until they were, truly, spooning. Richie let his hand rest against Eddie’s chest and his breath caught in his throat when he felt Eddie’s heart beating just as rapidly as his own was.

This went on for weeks, months maybe. Every few nights, Eddie would be waiting for Richie to come home, sitting on Richie’s bed, and they’d snuggle up together, or Richie would hop into bed and Eddie, after taking the extra fifteen minutes finishing his nighttime routine, would slide in behind him unexpectedly. Sometimes they fell asleep right away, sometimes they talked about their days. Richie knew Eddie liked it when he sang to him, softly in his ear. Waking up with Eddie in his arms felt so surreal every single time it happened, or having his warmth surrounding him, pressed down the length of his back, his toes brushing against the back of Richie’s calves.

It started off being every few nights, but that quickly became every second night, and then nearly every night, and somehow they’d come to a point where Richie would call out to Eddie when he was up working on assignments, asking when he was coming to bed, or Eddie, still half asleep, would grumble when Richie rolled out of bed for an early morning rehearsal and try to convince him to stay in bed a little longer, even as spring drew to a close and the days started getting warmer and he couldn’t use his classic  _ I’m cold _ excuse any longer. Eventually, they stopped making up excuses, and just let it happen.

Classes ended in mid-May and somehow Richie ended up being the responsible one who got them out of bed at a reasonable time every morning to get stuck into studying for finals. He lured Eddie out of bed with coffee and pancakes, pecking him on the forehead when he slumped into a chair and accepted his breakfast.

“Anyone ever tell you how fuckin’ adorable you are when you’re sleepy?”

“Shuddup, Richie. ‘M not cute.”

“Didn’t say cute, but that’s sure as hell true, too, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes through a yawn, picking up his mug. “Fuck, I have to finish that assignment today as well as study for my first final.”

“You study too much,” Richie said, sliding the butter and sugar across the table for Eddie.

“Do not. I study for as long as I need to keep my grades up. Some of us aren’t naturally fuckin’ gifted, dickhead.”

“Promise me you’ll never change your nicknames, Spagheds.”

“Keep calling me that and I’ll engrave ‘dickhead’ on your tombstone.”

Richie’s grin softened when Eddie glared at him through his lashes, a smirk threatening to spread across his face as he sprinkled sugar on his buttered pancakes. “Why don’t you just use syrup like the rest of us?”

“Do you know how many calories there are in that stuff?” Richie raised his brows, eyeing off Eddie’s butter and sugar. “Shut up. I don’t know, I just like this, okay?”

“Wait, didn’t—”

“No, shut it.”

“Didn’t  _ I _ trick you into thinking that was the way you were supposed to eat pancakes the first time you slept over at my house?”

“I said shut up.”

“Yeah, that’s right! My mom made us pancakes and I told you to butter them like bread and put sugar on it so that she’d think you were an idiot. And now… now you actually like it.” Eddie was blushing. “Wait, do you like it  _ because _ I introduced you to it?”

“I don’t fucking know, Richie. I appear to have some stupid affinity towards you for some reason. Must be because my mom fucked up my head. That’s the only explanation.”

“Sure, it is,” Richie challenged.

Eddie put his knife down and looked at Richie across the table, folding his hands together. “You are officially the  _ worst, _ I swear to fucking god.”

“Like a sailor, in fact.”

“I hate you.”

“Likewise, babe.” Richie winked, pouring more syrup on his own pancakes for good measure.

Another week of breakfast bickering and six-hour study sessions and Richie was just about ready to call it quits on the whole college thing. High school finals were nowhere near this exhausting. Eddie was slumped over a textbook for what was probably the tenth day in a row when Richie decided they needed a break.

The next day, he presented Eddie with two tickets to a matinee performance of Grease in the shittiest seats in the house.

“It’s Tuesday,” was Eddie’s response.

“How the hell else do you think I got last minute tickets? No one goes to midweek matinees except tourists, old people in homes and fucking LaGuardia excursions.” Eddie narrowed his eyes at the tickets like he thought they might bite him, or maybe like they might eat up all his meticulously written notes on psychological statistics or whatever the fuck he was doing today. Richie moved behind Eddie’s chair and bent to mumble in his ear in his best special agent Voice. “Mr Kaspbrak. You are required for an urgent mission, Agent. There’s an up and coming theatre performer who’ll be attending a musical today at thirteen-hundred hours and is in need of a date. Your mission: accompany this man. Do you accept it?”

Eddie sighed, but he turned his head to look at Richie, their faces now inches away from each other. “Fine, I’ll be your stupid date.”

“Score!” Richie threw a fist into the air. “Come on, then, Eds. We best be gettin’ ready. Unless you want to attend a Broadway production in your cute-ass PJs.”

“My PJs aren’t cute.”

“Everything about you is cute. I could just gobble you up.”

“Try it, bitch. Touch me and I’ll floor you.”

Richie’s noodle arms did not doubt he could.

“So,” Richie said, once they’d made it out of the theatre after the show in Manhattan, grinning with the rush of happiness that always came with watching a performance. “You still think I’m a Kenickie-Sonny hybrid?” It was the first time he’d voluntarily mentioned New Year’s Eve since it happened, but Richie was feeling bolder than usual today. It was probably something to do with the fact that they’d been holding hands as they walked and Eddie had been the one to initiate it.

“I never said I thought that. I said you were Patty Symcox.”

“Mmm, not how I remember that night.”

“You hardly remember to tie your shoes. Your memory can’t be trusted.”

“I certainly remember how cute you looked in your little sweater.” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand, pulling him off towards a side street.

“Where are we going now?” Eddie asked, squeezing back. He was blushing, and that made Richie’s heart stutter.

“Late lunch date?”

“Sure. You pick.”

Richie picked an Italian place and got them a spaghetti bolognese takeaway to share. He ignored Eddie’s eye rolls and took them to Central Park, finding a bench and trying not to think about the fact that they also hadn’t been here since New Year’s Eve. They sat cross-legged on the bench, facing each other with the container of food between them.

Eddie swirled some pasta around the fork and held it up to Richie’s mouth. “So, theatre date, now lunch date. I’m starting to think you like me or something.” His tone was teasing but his eyes darted back and forth between Richie’s. Flirtatious teasing was Richie’s favourite kind of Eddie conversation.

“And if I do? What are you gonna do about it?”

“Well, the thing is…” Eddie opened his mouth to the forkful Richie held up for him, taking a moment to chew and swallow. He tilted his chin up, looking at Richie. “I always get what I want.”

Richie’s breath hitched. “And what is it that you want, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie hummed. “I’m enjoying today and I don’t want to go home yet. You got any other ideas?”

“We could go to the zoo? Coney Island?”

“Aren’t they doing construction or something there?”

Richie shook his head. “Not everywhere. The amusement park is still deserted.”

“ _Richard. _ We are not fucking sneaking into a closed down amusement park.”

“Come on, Eds! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Where’s your sense of survival? Do you wanna get caught and arrested, kicked out of school and lose your jobs? For fuck’s sake, Richie, you have no common sense.”

Richie chuckled. “Well, that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? You’re the good little angel on my shoulder, keepin’ me in check.”

“Call me good little anything again and you’re definitely ending up pinned to the floor.”

“Careful, Eds, I could be into that.”

After they ate, they took a walk around the lake until Richie stopped them in front of Central Park Zoo. Eddie started shaking his head immediately.

“If you think I’m touching a bunch of wild animals, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“They are literally not wild animals. They are the opposite of wild animals.”

“I’m still not fucking touching them.”

Richie sighed. “What do you wanna do then, Spagheds? We gotta find somethin’ else to occupy the next couple hours and then we can start looking for dinner places.”

“A dinner date?”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed. “Dinner date.”

They walked all the way up Fifth Avenue until Eddie stopped in front of the Obelisk, insisting they come back another time with Richie’s polaroid camera to take photos together. There was a cute little cafe on Madison Avenue at which Eddie then decided they needed to get coffee. Richie didn’t know how such a small person fit so much food inside his body. They got a tiny square of cake to go with their drinks and Richie dipped his fingers in the frosting and poked Eddie on the nose. Richie wanted to sit outside in the warm, end of spring breeze, and Eddie wanted to people watch, pointing out strangers’ ridiculous outfits and hairstyles. He didn’t talk about finals or college once.

By the time the sun went down, they were back to holding hands and walking through Central Park, arms swinging back and forth between them.

“Thank you for today,” Eddie said. “I really did need the break.”

“I know. And you are most welcome, Eddie my love.” Richie blushed when Eddie squeezed his hand. He was never going to get used to the feeling of holding Eddie’s hand in public, or at all, for that matter. “ _Eddie my love, I love you so. How I’ve waited for you, you’ll never know._ ”

“I know you’re a sap, that’s what I know.”

“I’m offended, truly. We both know you secretly love my big heart.” Richie was worried he was starting to push his luck, but Eddie just stepped closer and brought his other hand up to hold Richie’s elbow.

“Yeah, for some fucking reason, I do.”

Richie took a deep breath. “Hey, Eds?”

“Mm?” Eddie stopped walking after a few moments when Richie didn’t continue. “What’s up?”

“I… I never thanked you for looking after me on my birthday.”

Eddie frowned. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know but I-I just— Thank you.”

“Of course, Rich. No need to sound so surprised.”

Richie’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Eddie was facing him, still holding one hand, and there was no one close by. He could pull Eddie forward and kiss him so easily. He was starting to think Eddie wouldn’t mind if he did.

“Race you to the end of the lake!” Richie said instead, dropping Eddie’s hand and taking off down the path. He heard Eddie groan and come after him, catching up and passing him after a few seconds.

“Keep up, dipshit!” Eddie called out.

“Fuck,” Richie panted, slowing down. Eddie spun around and started running backwards. “How the hell are you still faster than me going  _ backwards?_”

Eddie giggled. “You’re unfit.” He reached out and grabbed Richie’s hand, yanking him along. “Come on, Tozier! Move them scrawny legs!”

Richie collapsed on the ground when they got to the edge of the lake, rolling onto his back, chest heaving. He was indeed extremely unfit.

“Ugh, Rich, that’s gross. You don’t know what fucking dogs have pissed there.”

“We should get a dog. I’ve always wanted one.”

“Oh, fuck no. I could be allergic.” Eddie sighed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, placed his hands on his hips. “No, I’m probably not.”

“You could take it out for morning runs with you,” Richie said. “I’d bathe it, don’t worry. And brush its fur.”

“Please, you hardly brush your own hair.”

“You are so mean to me. I do nothing but make you laugh and this is the thanks I get.”

“You do nothing but annoy me and occasionally cook me breakfast.” Eddie reached a hand out and pulled Richie to his feet.

“Truth or dare,” Richie said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Eddie groaned. “You know I hate this game.”

“I know you actually don’t.”

“Shut up, Richie. Truth.”

“Pussy.”

Eddie folded his arms across his chest with a huff. “Fuck you. Give me a truth.”

Richie decided in an instant to go for broke. “When was the last time you got fucked?” Eddie’s blush was so worth it.

“Who says I was the one getting fucked?”

“So you do the fucking then?”

“I— I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I don’t know, okay? It's been a while. Maybe… February?”

Richie blanched. “It’s  _ May. _ Your wrist must be sore then. That’s a lotta jacking off.”

“Why the fuck are you so interested in my sex life all of a sudden?”

“I pick dare, not truth. Hit me, Spaghetti.”

“Careful, Tozier.” Eddie smirked. “I could be into that.”

“Wow. I always knew you were a little minx.”

“I dare you to hop in that fountain.”

Richie whipped his head around to see what Eddie was pointing at. “You’re kidding.”

“And you call  _ me _ a pussy?”

“You really want me to disrespect the Untermyer like that?” Eddie just raised his eyebrows at him. “Okay, come with me, then.”

“What?!” Eddie shrieked. “No! It’s your dare.” Richie grinned, grabbing Eddie’s hand again and pulling him towards the fountain. “Richie, no!”

“Richie,  _ yes!_” He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the side, swinging one leg and then the other over the barrier and into the water, shoes and all. “Come on, Eds! This is the closest you’ll ever get to skinny dipping.”

Eddie’s lips curled into the most adorable angry growl. “Fucking fine.” He took his shoes and socks off, laying each sock over the respective shoe, and rolled up the hem of his pants. “This was the worst fucking idea.”

The night was reasonably warm, the cool water pleasant on Richie’s feet – although less so because of the wet sock and shoe thing. He looked up at the moon, wondering for a brief moment if Stan or Bev or any of the others were seeing the same thing, staring at the same moon, and thinking about them.

“Beautiful,” he heard Eddie mumble under his breath. Richie hummed in agreement.

“Not as much as you, Spagheds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Why do you have to ruin everything?” His tone was playful and Richie could hear the smirk before he turned to find Eddie staring at him.

“Because,” Richie continued, leaning down to dip his hands in the water, “That’s just who I am.”

A grin broke out on Richie’s face as he scooped up two handfuls of water and threw them at Eddie, splashing him in the face. Eddie squealed and his hands came up to cover himself too late, eyes mischievous when he lowered his arms.

“Oh, you are so dead, Richie.”

Richie spun around when Eddie splashed him back, the water hitting the side of his torso. “Ha! Missed!” He swooped in and grabbed Eddie around the waist, lifting him off his feet. A high pitched squeak came from Eddie’s throat, arms automatically wrapping around Richie’s shoulders. Eddie kicked his legs, splashing and sending water flying around, drenching them both. Richie set him down and immediately went to splash more water at him, when he caught sound of people nearby. Eddie stopped, too.

“Oh my god, get out, come on!” he hissed at a grinning Richie. “Don’t just stand there, idiot! Police patrol this area at night! We’re gonna be fucking screwed if they find us in here!”

Still grinning, Richie clambered out of the fountain after Eddie, grabbing his jacket from the ground right as a bright torch light flashed near them.

“Run!”

They reached for each others’ hands at the same time as they fled the scene, fingers gripping to each other like their lives depending on it. Richie’s strides made wet, squelching sounds that kept Eddie giggling even as they rounded the corner and slowed down.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Eddie said, finally dropping his shoes on the ground to put them back on. “Ugh, fuckin’ wet socks.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Eddie,” Richie said, the smile on his face not fading. Eddie smiled back.

They found their way to the subway again, talking and laughing at their own stupidity the whole ride home until their stomach muscles ached. Eddie showered first while Richie dealt with their wet clothes, and then they both climbed into Richie’s bed, Eddie’s head resting on Richie’s shoulder, his arm thrown over Richie’s waist like this was the new normal. And, well, maybe it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh some much needed fluff at the end there. I’m so sorry I don’t know how the first half of this chapter even happened. It just got away from me so much and I rolled with it. It got SO much angstier than expected that I actually went back and edited previous chapters just before posting them so they had less crying to balance out all the crying here. 
> 
> Watch Andrew Garfield play Richie’s character in Angels of America [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuPzhUUwfoI) (timestamp 33:57).
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who knows where i borrowed the cabbage patch kids joke from. Double bonus points to anyone who can tell me which scene was inspired by Fleabag (watch the show, I beg of you, it’s fantastic)
> 
> Anyway i’ve received a couple of messages after the last few chapters on [tumblr](HTTP://bowtiescarves.tumblr.com) that honestly i cannot stop thinking about so if u wanna come say hi i will send you many virtual hugs and thanks also it’s my birthday on Wednesday so pls ur more than welcome to come chat w me! <333


	16. It's always been you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June - August 1995. Eddie gets many things off his chest and Richie has a lot of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the amount of support i have received on this fic in the comments and messages on tumblr in the past few weeks has been so freaking amazing, you guys. Honestly, you’re the best. I was going to wait until the weekend to update but I couldn’t help myself because of all the love i’ve gotten. anyway, this chapter is very long and took a very long time to write and i am not even a little bit sorry

When Richie and Eddie both disappeared early from the Losers’ graduation party, Beverly _knew_ something was up. She was always so good at telling when something unusual was happening amongst their friends, those two especially. When they didn’t show up to Bill’s place the next day and Stan refused to look her in the eye, she was absolutely certain they were up to something. She’d called Richie that night, and when he didn’t answer, went over to his place. Maggie Tozier told her that Sonia Kaspbrak had come over earlier, demanding to know what Richie had done to her son. Both of their rooms were wiped clean. So they were both missing. Sonia threatened the rest of the Losers if they didn’t tell her where Eddie was hiding, but it seemed nobody knew.

They all had their theories. Ben and Bill agreed that they’d just gone off for a few days, maybe a week, like they had for Eddie’s birthday the year prior, but Beverly had later cornered Stan in the clubhouse while the others were busy arguing over what mixtape to put on. Stan was always so good at keeping secrets, but he was never as good as Bev was at prying those secrets out of him. Initially, he’d refused to even open his mouth around her, allowing Mike to talk her into calling them both every day in the hopes they’d be the ones to answer and not their mothers, even though she could feel it in her chest that it was hopeless.

Her theory was that they’d run away together. She’d seen Richie’s college brochures lying around, despite him constantly assuring everyone that he had no intention of going, or even leaving Derry. Richie wasn’t in Derry now, and Eddie certainly wasn’t at UMaine. Beverly knew this because she called their admissions office. He hadn’t even applied, wasn’t on their records at all. Judging by the angry reddening of her face, Sonia didn’t know anything about that either. Bev nearly laughed to herself when she left the Kaspbrak’s front porch, thinking about how they really had pulled this off, they really had run away together.

Well, probably not _together_ together. Bev loved those boys with all her heart, but they were so fucking stupid sometimes. Honestly, she’d _tried_ with Richie, she truly had. She knew what it was like to be that scared, to have a secret part of her life that no one could know about, to fear so deeply that people would find out and put the blame on _her,_ like it was something she had any control over. She tried getting that through to him, but he never took the bait, always deflected in classic Richie fashion, changing the subject and throwing joke after joke at her until she gave up. Bev suspected that, if the two of them ever finally talked about their feelings, it would be Eddie who’d initiate it.

Somehow, despite being the one with the overbearing, conservative parent, Eddie radiated strength and confidence in ways that Richie never had, growing more and more sure of himself as they got older, as he broke further away from Sonia’s grip. Beverly obviously couldn’t be certain without being told, but she also suspected that Eddie’s lack of interest in dating came from a lack of interest in girls, just in general. He could have just been _that_ brainwashed, perhaps, to not show any desire towards girls because his mother had bullied it out of him, and for a while that’s exactly what she thought, until she caught him staring agape at water dripping down Bill’s back at the quarry.

Richie, she wasn’t so sure. His relationship with Emily seemed genuine, at the very least, but she could still tell his feelings for Eddie trumped all else. Bev and Stan had shared many _looks_ over the years whenever Richie’s incessant teasing jabbed at Eddie’s fire too harshly and a bickering explosion took over the entire clubhouse. With what she was planning for the next few weeks, Bev hoped they could get their shit together soon.

Prying the information out of Stan that she already knew to be true hadn’t been too hard, mostly because she’d told him her entire theory, which lined up almost perfectly with the facts. Richie and Eddie had been planning to run away together for a couple of years, saving up and buying a car and secretly applying to colleges, planning their future together. _God, they were so gay for each other._

The second time he had information, Stan called her voluntarily. Richie and Eddie were living in New York, going to college, working part-time, still hopelessly in love with each other. Beverly’s insides fluttered with warmth when she heard the news, proud of them for getting out of Derry and living their own lives. This time, she told Ben. It would have been far too difficult to keep it a secret now that they were living together.

“I want to find them,” she told him over dinner one night. “They’re here, in this state. There’s no way I can let this go. It’s been nearly a year since any of us have seen them.”

Ben sighed, and in that sigh Bev could tell how much he missed them, too. “I know, babe, but I just… They obviously don’t want to be found, otherwise they would have told Stan where they were. I just want to respect their wishes, that’s all.”

“No, I’ll tell you what it was. Eddie would have argued with Richie about his mom finding them. He’s still worried about her, I’m sure of it.” Bev shook her head. “You should have heard the way she spoke to me when I went to his house that day they left.”

“And I don’t blame him,” Ben said, “But just think about how they could react poorly to you showing up when Richie specifically said Eddie doesn’t want anyone knowing where they are. How would you even find them, anyway?”

“They’re in Queens, Stan said. He tracked the payphone Richie called on to the borough, so I’m thinking I go hang around the biggest pharmacy there or something. Eddie might not be on prescription meds anymore but I’m _certain_ he’d still go out and buy painkillers and bandaids and stuff. He’s bound to show up.”

Ben hummed, sighing concededly. “I’ll come with you,” he said, patting her hand. “Eddie’s going to kick your butt so hard when he sees you.”

The weekend after finals were done, they both took a few days off their part-time jobs and found a motel in the middle of Queens. Ben stayed out of Beverly’s way while she scoured the area for the largest drugstores, found a CVS that practically screamed Eddie’s name, and then abandoned her plan altogether when she realised what an upper-class part of the borough she was in. Ben helped her narrow down their search to the less expensive neighbourhoods.

“Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead living in an industrial area like this,” Bev lamented on their second day in New York City, walking through the streets of Bushwick. “Richie would be happy to go wherever Eddie wanted, so I doubt they’d be living here.”

“This is one of the most affordable neighbourhoods around here. It’s either here, Ridgewood or Maspeth. And actually… I think Bushwick is part of Brooklyn. We may be looking in the wrong area.”

Bev groaned. “Ringwood, then.”

“Ridgewood. It’s actually just a few streets away,” Ben said, looking down at the map in his hands and back up at the street signs. “Palmetto… Irving. Here, this way, up to Myrtle Avenue.”

“There’s a CVS. And look, a Rite Aid down there. Shit, should we stay around here?”

“Putnam, Cornelia, Jefferson,” Ben mumbled to himself, still reading the map and letting Bev guide them. “Let’s go up Cornelia. There are a heap of shops up where this street meets Cypress and Myrtle.”

“I hope you know I’m not paying attention to street names,” she snickered. They stopped outside the Rite Aid. “It’s open twenty-four hours. I think I’m gonna stay here. Do you want to go find us some food?”

“Sure, babe.” He let her peck him on the cheek and walked off up Cornelia Street.

When they met back at the motel that evening, Beverly was already starting to feel deflated.

“I felt like we were on the right track today, but they just weren’t… anywhere. I have half a mind to take a photo of them and start asking random store employees if they’ve seen them.”

“I mean, you could do that,” Ben said, “Although, you’re already started to get your hopes up and I just don’t want you to get let down again. It’s okay, Beverly, we’ll find them.” Sometimes Bev felt like she didn’t deserve someone as understanding and sweet as Ben. Now was definitely one of those times.

Ben ended up being correct about Eddie kicking her ass.

After their third day scouring Maspeth with no luck, they were walking hand in hand back to their motel, through the main streets of Ridgewood, when Ben suddenly stopped walking outside a strip of restaurants.

“Domino’s,” he said.

Beverly looked up, across the road to where he was gesturing. Parked on the intersection in front of the pizza shop was a sleek grey car with none other than Eddie Kaspbrak leaning against it, smiling where he looked through the shopfront. She almost didn’t recognise him. His hair was longer and starting to wave behind his ears, he was wearing a peach t-shirt with a denim jacket that was far too big to be his own, and Bev could have sworn she saw rainbow socks poking out from the hem of his pants.

“Eddie,” she breathed, dropping Ben’s hand and taking off across the road. Ben knew the drill. He let her go, walking off back to their motel to phone the others and let them know the plan worked. _The plan fucking worked._

Eddie shifted on his feet as Beverly approached the car, turning to see her when she was just a few feet away. A strange mixture of happiness and shock flashed in his eyes, almost like he didn’t want to feel as excited as he did to see her. Still, a grin broke out across his face as she threw herself into his arms, laughing with delight at the fact that she could see and touch her friend again after so long.

“Bev?!”

“Eddie!”

“What are you doing here? H-How did— What the fuck?”

Bev chuckled. “It’s good to see you, too, kiddo.”

Eddie scoffed, screwing his mouth up, and Bev didn’t think she’d ever be so happy to see him looking so disgusted. “I’m both older and taller than you now. You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Alright, _Edward,_ ” she teased with a grin, cheeks starting to hurt with how much she was smiling.

“God, Bev, I’ve missed you so much.” He pulled her into another crushing hug, and then the door to Domino’s chimed and another familiar voice sounded in her ears.

“Beverly fuckin’ Marsh?!”

She extracted herself from Eddie’s grip to instead throw her arms around Richie’s shoulders, letting him, for once, lift her off the ground and spin her around. “Oh my god, Rich, I can’t believe you’re here.”

“ _I’m_ here? I _live_ here. What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

“Yeah, Bev,” Eddie said, “Why are you here?”

She took a step back and the boys fell in line with each other, like it was natural for them to stand like that while talking to another person. Their sides were nearly touching. Beverly wondered if maybe they had actually gotten their shit together. “Shall we walk?”

Back at the motel, after excitedly greeting Ben – Richie and Ben both cried into the hug a little, Eddie watching them fondly – Eddie demanded they explain themselves. He looked like he was about to strangle Richie when he found out that Richie had, in fact, called Stan against Eddie’s wishes, and that Stan was not as trustworthy as he seemed.

“We all missed you so much,” Ben tried to explain. “He wanted to see you just as badly. Bev and I are just closer.”

“And speaking of which,” she butted in, refusing to let Ben be the one to tell the boys their frankly amazing plans, “Everyone is coming over to our place next week. There’s a cute little inn down the road from our apartment building where they’re all staying. You two, however, are staying in our lounge room.” Eddie opened his mouth to argue but she barrelled on. “I don’t want to hear a single complaint. Stan and Bill are flying in for this and I think Mike’s driving down from Derry. No arguing, Kaspbrak.”

“Bev,” Eddie began anyway, “I don’t know about this.”

“Eds, c’mon. Don’t you wanna see everyone?” Richie turned to him, pulling him away from Bev and Ben for a moment. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re safe here. No one’s gonna find you, I promise. I’d rather sacrifice my marriage with your mom by fighting her off than let her take you away from me.”

Eddie snorted. “God, you’re such a fucking idiot.”

Beverly felt Ben’s gaze on her, snuck a glance at him. She could see the question in his eyes. _Are they finally together?_ But she shook her head. Richie would have been shouting it from the rooftops if he and Eddie were dating, and Eddie would have been diligently but fruitlessly trying to shut him up.

In the end, they agreed, despite Eddie’s continuous moaning and groaning about the risks involved. Richie just slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Beverly was starting to think they were going to sort themselves out soon.

She had been tossing and turning for over an hour before Beverly decided to get out of bed, lest she wake Ben with her restlessness. She knew it had been that long because the clock on the nightstand told her it was two in the morning and Richie had kept them up with stories of his latest theatre show until way after midnight. She blinked a few times, eyes groggy and heavy-lidded, shoved her feet into her slippers and shuffled into the kitchen. Richie was still asleep on the mattress they’d set up on their living room floor, but the couch was empty, save for a pile of blankets. Standing on the other side of the room by the window, with a mug of what smelled like hot chocolate in his hand, was Eddie. 

“Thought rosè was the only sweet thing you drank,” Bev said, flashing him a sleepy smirk.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Dessert wine, too,” he replied, earning a chuckle from Bev. His smile softened, faded until his lips were flat and expression blank, brows then starting to furrow together. He inhaled deeply. 

Bev frowned. “You okay? You look like there’s something on your mind.”

Eddie huffed out something of a laugh. “You can always tell. How do you do that?”

“No idea,” she replied with a shrug. “Womanly instincts or something.” She stepped forward and leaned against the counter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Eddie wordlessly walked around her into the kitchen, placed his mug down on the counter and turned his body to face her. He ran his tongue across his lips for a moment and shifted on his feet. Bev could see him swallow the lump in his throat, watched him with the kind of open expression she hoped would ease whatever anxieties were bubbling up inside him right now. He opened his mouth for a moment, inhaled sharply, and let the words fall out of his mouth.

“I’m gay,” Eddie said, and _god,_ that was better than anything Beverly could have hoped for.

A fond smile took over her entire face as she moved around the counter and stepped right into Eddie’s space, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. And I still love you all the same.” He tucked his face into her shoulder and sniffled. “Aw, honey, please don’t cry. It’s okay, I accept you exactly as you are.”

“You’re the best, Bev,” he mumbled against her pyjama top. “Wish everyone was like you.” When he pulled back, his eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and he sniffled again. “I was thinking about coming out to everyone, you know, since they’re all getting here tomorrow.”

Bev offered him a warm smile of encouragement. “Eddie, that’s so great.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I still worry… Not everyone is like you and Richie. We did grow up in Derry, after all.”

She tilted her head. “Richie?”

“Yeah, I told him. We, uh… Y-Yeah, it went really well. But the rest of them, I just don’t know.”

Watching him drop his chin and stare at his feet for a few seconds, there was clearly something else he wasn’t saying, but Bev didn’t want to push. “It’s alright to be scared, honey,” she told him. “You know we all love you no matter what. Something like this isn’t going to change that.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Eddie pursed his lips, sucked in a deep breath. “You know, Bev, you really helped me, once. You told me not to let anyone else define me, or let anyone be the reason I wanted to be a better person. And I-I try so hard to live by that. I used to let my mom tell me what to do and after I realised what actual love felt like, being loved by all you guys, I thought maybe I could learn to love myself without her. And I’ve tried, I really have.” He dropped his gaze to the floor again, exhaling a shaky breath. “I think I’m finally starting to get there. I’ve finally accepted this part of myself and I think… I think I’m going to tell everyone at dinner tomorrow. I’m sick of hiding. This is who I am and I want the people I love to know that.”

Bev reached out to squeeze Eddie’s hand, walking them back into the living room, carefully stepping around Richie. She sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. Eddie groaned softly as he flopped down, bringing his legs up to fold underneath him.

“I fully support you, no matter what you choose to do,” she said. “I’ll sit right by your side at dinner. Be your silent cheerleader and radiating encouragement.”

“I just don’t know what to say to them,” Eddie lamented, dropping his face into his hands. “I don’t think I can just say it so blatantly like ‘hey guys, you know the reason I never dated girls in high school? Well that’s because everything Bowers said about me was true. I really love dick’.”

Bev barked out a laugh, quickly slapping her hand over her mouth. “Wow, Richie’s really rubbing off on you, isn’t he?”

“God, don’t even get me started on _Richie._ ”

She raised an eyebrow, having a feeling she knew where this was headed. “That statement sounds like it has a story behind it.”

Eddie was staring down at Richie, bundled up in a sleeping bag on top of the mattress. Bev knew that look. When he glanced back up at her, stared at her for a long moment, lips parted slightly, his eyes were soft in a way that she suspected not many people got the chance to see, before he finally whispered, “I’m completely in love with him.”

Bev’s mouth curved into a gentle smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling fondly. “I know.”

“You— What?” Eddie squeaked.

She chuckled. “You’re not as subtle as you think, Kaspbrak.”

“Seriously? You’ve known this whole time?” He gawked at her. “So you knew I was gay?”

“I noticed you used to look at Bill a lot, not unlike the way I used to look at him. I figured you liked boys.” Eddie dropped his face into his hands and groaned. “I think you should go for it.”

“What, Richie?” He shook his head. “No, I can’t, I—”

“I promise, it will work out. Trust me.” Honestly, they were just as stubborn as each other. “Just listen. Do you remember in twelfth grade when we all had that huge fight?” He nodded. “I never apologised for— and I hate to say it like this, but for choosing Richie’s side.”

“You didn’t need to. We all made mistakes in those months.”

“I do,” Bev insisted. “I never told anyone why I did that. As soon as I realised you guys were fighting, I made the decision to go with Richie because I knew _you_ were smart enough and mature enough to forgive him on your own, but that he would need a push. I tried _so hard_ to get him to talk to me about his… relationship with you, because I _knew_ how he felt and he just wouldn’t budge. It was so fucking frustrating because I _knew_ there was something there and he just needed the support from his friends to show him that it was okay and that he—” Bev’s eyes slipped shut and she took a deep breath. “Richie, he… He loves you, too, Eddie.”

Eddie licked his lips, brows furrowed like he was contemplating her words, but what he said was the last thing she was expecting. “I know.”

This time it was Bev’s turn to blink, confused. “You know?”

He huffed out a breath. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know how to talk about _my_ feelings. He does it all the time, like it’s so easy for him to just open his mouth and say whatever he’s thinking, but I find it _so hard._ ”

“He talks about his feelings for you?”

“Well, no, not about me. But other things, yeah. He actually talks so much about things I never even knew he felt, especially about himself. It’s… It’s heartbreaking.”

Bev nodded, mind drifting off to things Ben used to say about himself, even remembering some offhand comments Richie would make, these stupid boys trying to cover up how much they were hurting on the inside. “I think I know what you mean.”

“I’m still trying to figure out the right time to tell him. And how to tell him. Every time we have a _moment_ where I feel like there’s no mistaking his feelings, I can’t seem to get the words out of my mouth.”

“Well, I don’t think I can help with that one, Eddie. I’m not exactly the most forthcoming when it comes to my feelings. You should talk to Ben.”

“Yeah, like I need everyone knowing I’m in love with this dickhead.” He gestured to the mop of hair sticking out from inside the sleeping bag. “He’s so fucking _stupid._ I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Love is blind or some shit,” Bev said, chuckling.

“Or some shit,” Eddie mumbled, but he was still looking at Richie, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the kind of affection that warmed Bev’s insides.

“One thing at a time, though. Worry about Richie later. If you really do want to come out to the Losers tomorrow, I promise I’ll be right there by your side.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie breathed, finally dragging his eyes away from a sleeping Richie. “I love you, Bev.”

“Love you, too, kiddo.”

* * *

The prospect of seeing the rest of their friends in mere minutes was enough for Richie’s fingers to twitch by his sides until Eddie took pity on him and grabbed his hand. They were sitting in a restaurant booth across from Beverly and Ben and Richie’s leg was bouncing up and down on the ball of his foot like his heart would beat right out of his chest if he stopped moving for a single second. Eddie also seemed nervous, if Richie took the time to notice. It was probably for the same reasons he hadn’t wanted to contact them all in the first place, although Richie thought he'd managed to convince him that there was no way in hell Sonia would find them, that Richie would rather pull himself and Sonia in front of an oncoming subway than let her get to Eddie. Seeing their friends would be fine, he was sure Eddie knew that. He squeezed his hand anyway, just in case. Eddie squeezed back.

Mike showed up first. He had somehow gotten _more attractive_ in the last year, if that were even possible. Shoulders and arms filled out even more, teeth straighter than Richie’s soul, he walked over to the table with the widest and happiest smile on his face that Richie thought he’d ever seen. He and Eddie scooted out of the booth and went to greet Mike, and now up close, Richie noticed that Mike was significantly taller than him, more so than he used to be. Eddie did look rather cute standing next to him, drowning in the size of Mike.

“God, Hanlon,” Eddie chuckled, no doubt flustered by the attractiveness of their friend, “Did Derry finally open a gym or something? Look at you!”

“Look at _you,_ Eddie. You look… happy.” Mike grinned. “It’s so good to see you guys.”

“Mikey boy, bring it in,” Richie said, holding his arms out for a hug and _wow,_ Mike’s biceps were _nice._ “How’s Derry treatin’ you?” Richie stepped back to look at him, still smiling, and slipped an arm across Eddie’s shoulders. He noticed Mike’s eyes followed the movement. Mike gave a rather pathetic shrug and yeah, Richie could understand Derry feeling a bit like that. Then the restaurant door chimed again.

“Hey. Trashmouth.”

Richie's heart stuttered hearing that voice and he turned to see Bill and Stan walk in. Richie stepped away from Eddie and right into Stan’s space the moment they locked eyes, flinging his arms so hard around his neck that he nearly smacked himself in the face. It felt like the sun had shot a beam of light down through the restaurant ceiling and right into his chest, warming him from the inside out, making him feel like he could fly. Richie’s eyes were squeezed shut and he nearly shuddered when he felt Stan’s hands move around to return the embrace.

When he opened them, he saw Bill and Mike, who still hadn’t sat down, watching them like they’d never seen Richie hug anyone like this who wasn’t Eddie before. Richie blinked back tears.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he snapped with a smirk, still holding Stan close.

“Wow,” Mike said, “You and Eddie really do live together and it shows.” Richie blushed, and he suspected Eddie did so, too.

Stan patted Richie’s back gently. “I missed you, too, Rich.”

Eventually Richie let go, stepping back just far enough to clap his hand against Stan’s cheek. “Man, you got even prettier,” he teased, although it was entirely true and he probably would have liked to kiss Stan had Eddie not been standing right there, probably pouting, waiting his turn to greet him.

“Enough,” Stan said, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips and _god,_ Richie had missed that smile.

When they were all settled and squished into the booth – which was significantly more difficult now that they weren’t sixteen and all limbs with no breadth anymore – Ben handed menus out to everyone and called a waiter over. They ordered a couple of share plates and appetisers, spread them across the table and dug in.

The group fell back into conversation like it hadn’t been a year since they’d all sat down together and just talked, like it hadn’t been six months since five of the seven Losers had crammed into the Denbrough living room at Christmas and complained about their friends’ disappearance. Richie was just _waiting_ for someone to turn on them and demand answers, but was absolutely content to let the usual banter continue for a few minutes longer.

“You’re telling me that you _finally_ got laid?” he asked Stan, pretending to wipe a tear away and slipping into his Southern Belle. “I can’t believe ma ears! Are ya seein’ this, God? We all grown up now!”

Mike raised his brows. “All of us?” He turned to Eddie.

“What?” Eddie squeaked. Richie grinned. “Fuck you, Richie. Yes, including me, alright? Shut up, all of you. You act like I’m a prude.”

“Well…” Richie and Mike began at the same time. Beverly chuckled and Bill was gawking slightly.

“Are you n-not gonna give us the d-de-details? Who was sssshe?”

Eddie, without missing a beat, just said, “Oh, I fucked Richie’s mom.”

Richie threw his head back as they all broke out into laughter, his hand slapping against Eddie’s thigh. “Fuckin’ good one, Spagheds.” Eddie just giggled, only the twitch of his lips indicating any nervousness at Bill’s choice of pronoun, and leaned into Richie’s side. He didn’t even tell him to shut up or quit with the nicknames.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said through a smile, “I can’t get over how similar you two have gotten.”

Beverly turned and leaned forward, elbow on the table, and pointed her fork at Eddie and Richie next to her. “Yes. You two,” she said, chin tilted down and brows raised, “Are in big trouble.” And here it was. “What the hell kind of stunt did you think you were pulling, running away like that?”

Richie shrugged and Eddie licked his lips. A silence fell over the table. “Do we really need a reason for wanting to get out of Derry?” Eddie asked.

“Of course not,” Mike said, “But how come you didn’t tell us what you were doing?”

“‘Cause Eds is a little scaredy-cat mommy’s boy.”

Eddie smacked him on the arm. “Shut up, you know it’s more than that.” He sighed. “I _was_ scared of my mom finding me but you guys know how crazy she is. The more I think about it now, though, the more I realise I was just being paranoid.”

“You don’t ssssay,” Bill mumbled. Sometimes Richie forgot how close Bill and Eddie were, especially with Eddie deciding to spend half of their senior year avoiding their friends like the plague. Sometimes he forgot they’d met on their first day of first grade, months before Richie and Stan met them. Seeing each other again had probably felt a lot like the drawn-out, emotional hug Richie and Stan had shared, which Richie didn’t notice because he was so wrapped up, literally, with Stan. He’d have to make time to talk to Eddie about _Eddie’s_ feelings more, especially since he’d talked (screamed, cried) Eddie’s ear off so many times in recent months, pouring his own heart out onto the floor at Eddie’s feet.

“I’m sorry, Big Bill,” Eddie replied, voice quiet and gentle. “I was just… scared.” Richie’s hand fumbled under the table until he found one of Eddie’s, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Eddie snuck him a quick glance and squeezed back. “I actually, uh, just while I have your attention, um… Shit.” Eddie’s eyes then darted to his other side where Beverly was sitting, the two of them exchanging a heavy look that Richie didn’t understand.

“You can do it, honey,” she whispered.

Eddie swallowed.

“I-I don’t want you guys to think any different of me, but… I have something important to tell you. I love you guys so much, you mean the world to me an-and I would have never have had the courage to do this if I didn’t feel… so loved back.” Eddie licked his lips, Richie’s breath hitched, then Eddie opened his mouth again and it came tumbling out in one breath. “This is something I have to do for myself because I’m ready and I want to be myself in front of all of you and I just hope that you can accept me for who I am and that’s—” He sucked in a deep, audible breath. “I like boys. I’m gay.”

Eddie’s bravery never ceased to amaze Richie.

His index finger pressed down _hard_ on Richie’s hand once, twice, like he was pushing down on his inhaler. Richie brought his other hand across his lap to hold Eddie’s between both of his, rubbing his thumb across his skin soothingly. He leaned in slightly. “Proud of you, Eds,” he mumbled.

Stan spoke up first. “We love you, Eddie, and we don’t care who you love,” he said, mouth curved and eyes crinkled in a fond smile. “We just want you to be happy.” Stan’s eyes darted momentarily over to Richie’s.

“Yeah, of course we accept you, Eddie,” Mike said.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” Bev added.

Ben nodded, smiling in agreeance. “Love is love,” he said simply. “And I love love.”

Eddie exhaled a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I thought you wouldn’t. I love you guys so much.” He turned to Bill, whose brows were furrowed slightly. He hadn’t said a word.

“Bill…” Stan warned, almost looking like he would punch him if he didn’t say something. Richie’s heart started pounding.

Bill glanced between Richie and Eddie. “I just… didn’t kn-know, I guess? I never r-re-realised you—”

“That’s why he’s telling you,” Richie said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “The point of having a secret is that you don’t know about it until you’re told.”

“I didn’t know, either,” Mike said, like the rest of them _did_ know or something. Maybe they did.

Bill shook his head. “You’re sssstill my friend, Eddie, of cour-course. I just… I had no idea.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed, arms folded across his chest, and he opened his mouth again, but Bill turned to look at him and he shut it immediately. They stared at each other for a few seconds, Stan appearing more upset than Eddie at this development, and the thought suddenly crossed Richie’s mind that maybe the boy Stan once liked was Bill.

“I’m sorry, E-Eddie,” Bill continued, “I d-d-do accept you. It just mmmight take me a mi-minute to wrap my h-head around.”

Eddie let out a sigh. “Thanks, guys.”

Somewhere in the back of Richie’s mind, he saw nine-year-old Eddie preaching to the rest of them when his mother first told him to stay away from homosexuals, heard fourteen-year-old Eddie shrieking about catching AIDs through a hangnail, and now, here was nearly twenty-year-old Eddie, so much braver than Richie could ever dream of being, coming out to all of their friends after having lived out of home for a year, working and studying and living his best life, far away from his mom’s stifling grip. Richie had never felt more proud of him.

He noticed Bev and Ben whispering to themselves and moving around under the table. “What’s goin’ on here, aye? Upgraded from footsie to a cheeky fingering and over-the-pants handjob? You kinky bastards.” Mike snorted and Beverly rolled her eyes.

“No, actually,” Ben said. “We’re settling a bet.” He placed a ten dollar note on the table in front of Beverly.

“That’s so dumb,” Stan said. “You live together. All your money is going into the same place.”

“Rules are rules, Uris,” Bev shrugged, taking the money. “We bet on this _years_ ago, anyway.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie snapped. “Has this got to do with me?”

Richie snickered, thinking it had everything to do with that. Then Beverly looked from Eddie to Richie with some kind of pointed expression that reminded him a hell of a lot of the look she gave him that time under the bleachers during the big fight, when he was thinking about making up and confessing his feelings to Eddie. _You can do this,_ she’d said back then, _I promise it’ll pay off._ He’d tried to convince himself that she had no idea what she was talking about, but every time Eddie took his hand or curled up in bed with him, it became substantially more difficult to ignore those words and that _feeling._ Maybe Beverly had been onto something this whole time. Richie didn’t even need to look at Stan to know he was watching him, too.

“Right then, mi amigos!” Richie cut in before Bev could say anything incriminating. “Now that we’ve all enjoyed Eds’ quinceañera, shall we adiós back to Bevvie and Benjamin’s delightful abode and whip out some fine champagne, por favor?”

According to Ben, they’d been saving the few bottles of wine they’d managed to acquire over the year for this exact evening, when Richie and Eddie finally met up with everyone again. Richie thought that took a lot of self-control that he most certainly didn’t have, but Ben and Beverly were always stronger than him, anyway. Eddie and Stan had long since fallen asleep, drunk off two or three glasses of wine, Bill and Mike deciding another hour later to retire to the inn down the road, leaving Richie up with their gracious hosts. Surprisingly, it was Beverly who headed off to bed first, mumbling something about an early morning shift she couldn’t get out of, kissing Richie on the cheek and Ben on the mouth as she got up from the floor mattress where the three of them were sitting and wandered towards the bedroom.

Richie sipped from his glass, grimacing only slightly at the taste.

“You know,” Ben said, not even slurring because _damn,_ that boy could hold his liquor. “I was really proud of Eddie today.”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed easily. “He’s so fuckin’ brave, that kid.”

Ben chuckled. “I can _hear_ him yelling at you, saying he’s older than you and not to call him a kid.”

“He is a feisty little shit.” Richie sighed dreamily, letting his eyes slip shut and his head fall back against the couch where Eddie and Stan were half draped on top of each other. They were both probably going to wring Richie’s neck when they woke up tomorrow and their backs were sore, but Richie’d had far too much wine to do anything about it now.

“Richie,” Ben said, quieter than before, “You know we love you, right? No matter what?” Richie opened his eyes and frowned at Ben. “We all really care about you.”

Richie swallowed. “Ben Handsome, I know you’re comin’ onto me, but I hate to tell you, buddy, my loyalties lie with Bev.” He finished it off with a wink and downed the rest of his glass. Ben sighed, finishing his own drink and taking their glasses back into the kitchen.

“I might call it a night, too,” Ben said.

This time, Richie sighed. “Leaving me here on my lonesome. How dare thee?”

Ben just raised his eyebrows and started walking out of the room. “You lost me a bet, Richie.”

“What?” Richie whisper-shouted as Ben disappeared down the hall. “What do you mean? Benjamin!”

“Shuddup, Richard,” a sleep-slurred voice came from the couch. “He has a point.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“Jus’ a couple of minutes,” Stan mumbled, pulling himself up to a sitting position. “I can’t believe I fell asleep on a couch. I can’t believe you _let_ me fall asleep on a couch.”

Richie snorted. “I’m not your keeper, you’re mine, remember?”

“How could I forget? You’re like a bad smell I can’t get rid of.” Stan rubbed his eyes. “I think Ben and Bev bet on which one of you and Eddie would come out first.”

“What the hell?” Richie spluttered. “Does everyone seriously know already?”

Stan shrugged. “I’m pretty sure Bev figured it out before you did, Rich. So did I. Ben might’ve been more recent, but it’s only my guess, anyway. Could’ve been about anything.”

“You should have seen the look she gave me.”

“I did. That’s why I think that. But Bev knows you too well. You’re still scared of what they’ll all think.”

“Bev doesn’t know shit,” Richie grumbled, not even believing the words as they came out of his own mouth.

Stan gave him a look. “Aside from… _Bill…_ you saw how they reacted to Eddie coming out. No one gives a shit because, like I told you years ago, it doesn’t change anything.”

“I can’t,” Richie whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t do it. I’m not brave like Eddie is. He’s so fuckin’ brave, it’s ridiculous, and I’m just—”

“A coward? Like me? Richie, you told me _and_ Eddie that you were bi, you ran away from home and built a new life for yourself, you’re a lead in New York University’s plays, you’re doing stand-up comedy. That takes _guts._ You are _brave,_ Richie.”

Stan was looking at him with such fierce determination that Richie almost believed him.

“I can’t even tell the boy I love how I feel about him,” he whispered. “I want to. So badly. Sometimes I think… I think he feels the same.”

Stan’s intense gaze softened. “How many times do I have to tell you he does?”

“You’re not the only one who’s told me,” Richie muttered. “Maybe one day I’ll learn to be brave.”

Beverly and Ben, much to Eddie’s annoyance, had organised for the Losers to stay in New York for a whole week, then everyone was allowed to go home if they wanted, or they could stick around if they had no other plans. Richie tried to convince Eddie to stay until everyone else left since they didn’t know when they’d all be seeing each other again.

The group took two cars and drove up to Dorchester Park, with Richie, Bill and Bev being driven by Ben, and Stan and Eddie cramming themselves into Mike’s car. Being squashed into the back seat next to Bill felt like the longest twenty minutes of Richie’s life. He didn’t know what to say to the guy and he couldn’t even imagine what had been going through Eddie’s head that morning when he asked Richie to ride with Bill so he didn’t have to. Richie didn’t know what he would have done if Stan hadn’t accepted him for who he was all those years ago, and that was an accidental admission of feelings, nothing like Eddie’s meticulously planned and rehearsed announcement. Richie kind of wanted to punch Bill in the face.

They set up a picnic rug and all sprawled out across it. Beverly sat with her back against Ben’s chest, Richie’s head on her lap and her hands in his hair. Richie’s legs were tangled with Eddie’s, who was sitting near Ben and the two of them were talking. Stan was cross-legged with a book at the corner of the rug and Bill and Mike were at the other corner playing a card game.

Richie pointed at the clouds. “Hey, Eddie, that look like your mom’s bra to you?” Eddie just lifted his leg suddenly and kneed Richie in the thigh. “Ow, jeez. No, you’re right, it definitely looks more like Stan’s mom’s.”

Stan did not dignify him with a response, not even looking up from his book.

Richie sighed, closing his eyes and letting Beverly’s magic fingers make braids in his hair which definitely needed to be cut soon. He must have drifted off, because the next thing he registered was the sound of Mike’s hushed voice and Stan mumbling about something being pretty. Richie’s eyes fluttered open and Beverly, Mike and Stan were all leaning over him, Stan’s lips twitching into a smile.

“I _suppose_ you’re right,” Stan said with a roll of his eyes. “And before _you_ say anything, Richard, this was all Mike’s idea.”

Richie sat up, blinking a few times. “What was?” Then he caught sight of Eddie, who didn’t appear to have moved, but was now donning the cutest flower crown and an equally cute pout. “Aw, Eds, look at you! C’mere, lemme pinch your cheeks.” Richie made grabby hands at him and when he leaned forward to reach out, something fell in front of his glasses. He realised, snapping his head around to try to understand what was going on, that all seven of them had flowers in their hair.

Beverly giggled and handed him a compact mirror.

Richie’s hair was littered with tiny braids with flowers weaved throughout, as well as being jammed into the arms of his glasses. He looked utterly ridiculous, and yeah, also kind of pretty.

Richie grinned, looking back up to see Eddie watching him with a soft, gentle smile that ignited something warm and fuzzy in his heart. Maybe it was just his useless eyes playing tricks on him, but Richie had a feeling that was what he looked like when he looked at Eddie. Maybe Stan had a point. And Bev. And Alex. And okay, maybe it was about time for Richie to do something about his feelings. _Actually_ do something, not just pretend or say he was going to, not just decide on a whim to do something stupid or blurt out a random confession like he was prone to doing.

Stan and Mike had returned their attention to the others, Beverly, Bill and Ben’s voices sounded distant in his ears. Richie reached over again and Eddie’s hand found his easily, fingers tangling together just like their legs still were. Richie thought that Eddie deserved the world, and maybe it was time to give him his world. He didn’t feel like it was much, but maybe it would be enough if it meant Eddie would keep looking at him like that.

* * *

Everyone enjoyed their trip to the park so much that they decided to go back again later in the week. It was not lost on Eddie that they decided to do this on the Thursday which also happened to be his birthday. He wasn’t expecting very much and really didn’t want anything from his friends except their company, just glad to be able to see them and talk to them after a year apart.

Beverly and Richie cooked him a ridiculously extravagant breakfast that really made him feel sorry for Ben, who had apparently been doing very well in maintaining a healthy diet. Eddie was so proud of him. The four of them swung past the inn and found the other three already piled into Mike’s car, ready to go. When they arrived at the lake, after all hugging Eddie and wishing him happy birthday, Ben and Stan started setting up their picnic rug while Richie and Bev rushed off upon hearing the sound of an ice cream truck. Insisting he did no work, Eddie was forced by Stan to go for a walk down by the lake, but not before huffing about not being able to help and deciding to drag Mike along with him.

“I’m sorry we left you all alone in Derry,” Eddie told him, suddenly realising that Mike had been expecting both Richie and Eddie to be in Maine with him for at least another year. “It must have been lonely.”

Mike gave a shrug. “A little, but I make do. My grandmother bullied some of my cousins to come visit for nearly a month over winter, and the rest of the time I’m just so busy with work that I hardly noticed.”

Eddie frowned. “I still feel bad.”

“I understand why you did it. Your mom actually drove up to the farm a few times looking for you. She’s kind of insane, Eddie. She just showed up one time, I think it was in August, and Bill was still in town, and just started screaming at us to give her back her ‘little boy’.” Mike snorted. “Then she came back around Christmas time when all the Losers were over and I think not seeing you or Richie there made her realise that you were actually gone and she couldn’t do anything about it. It certainly helped that none of us knew where you were.”

So Eddie had made a good judgement in telling Richie not to call any of them. Yet, he’d gone and done it anyway. He knew he should have been a little mad, but walking here with Mike, watching the rest of his friends laughing and catching up, he couldn’t find it in his heart to feel that way at all. All he felt was an overwhelming fondness for all of his friends.

Even Bill, who was watching him and Mike out of the corner of his eyes, now sitting with Stan on the bench by the picnic setup.

“He’ll come around,” Mike said. “I don’t know why he’s having such trouble with it, but he’ll figure it out. He cares for you, Eddie.”

“I know. I just… Bill’s my oldest friend. We’ve known each other since the first day of first grade. When I was a kid, I used to look up to him, so not having his… acceptance or blessing or whatever… It kind of hurts.”

Mike’s hand came to rest gently on Eddie’s shoulder. “Do you want me to talk to him? I’m sure Stan’s already drilling into him right now.”

Eddie shook his head. “No, I want him to come around in his own time. I don’t want to force anything.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Mike nodded. “Just so you know, from one minority to another, I felt strangely proud of you for coming out like that. I could tell you were nervous and it took guts. I’m really happy for you, Eddie.”

Eddie was _not_ going to cry. He leaned up on his toes and pulled Mike into a hug instead. “Thanks, Mikey,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry about my mom. She’s such a fucking pain in the ass.”

Mike pulled back from the hug and chuckled. “Yeah. I see her around town sometimes. She has this sour look on her face all the time.”

“In her own, fucked up way, she probably misses me.” Eddie scoffed. “She would have a heart attack if she saw me now.” He gestured down at his body with his dark blue overall shorts, one of Richie’s Marshall t-shirts and his yellow high tops. “I look like a twink.”

“You kind of are a twink,” Mike teased.

“I am fucking not. You know nothing of my private life, Michael. Don’t judge me because I have _fashion sense._ ”

“Is that even yours? What is Marshall?”

“It’s a guitar amp company. It’s Richie’s.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Richie’s? You’re wearing Richie’s clothes?” He was smirking and Eddie wanted to smack him.

“I have been known to do so, yes. What of it?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them and Eddie spun around, coming face-to-face with Bill.

Bill’s eyes dropped to the ground and he shifted on his feet. Eddie swallowed.

“I think I’m gonna go wrangle up Richie and Bev,” Mike muttered, patting Eddie on the shoulder as he left.

A long, awkward silence fell over the two, Eddie’s self-confidence waning slowly until he had to drop his eyes as well to stare at the patch of grass between them.

“Did you want something?” Eddie asked, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Bill said immediately. “I sh-sh-shouldn’t have been so rude about you being… g-g-gay. I was just ssssurprised. I always thought… neverm-mi-mind.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, shoulder hunched over. “You’re my oldest friend, my best friend, a-a-and I think I felt a llllittle betrayed wh-when you and Richie disappeared, and then I get to sssssee you for the first t-time in a year and you drop a b-bo-bomb like that. But it was s-s-selfish of me to react the way I did.”

Eddie watched him carefully. “Do you remember in second grade when Miss Peterson got married and we said we’d be each others’ best man at our weddings?”

Bill nodded. “Yeah.”

“I used to imagine myself marrying a woman, too. Of course I did, with my mom and all. Just because I might one day end up marrying a man, if it’s ever legalised, doesn’t mean I don’t want you there by my side. You’re my best friend, too, Big Bill.”

Bill’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “I’d like that.” He glanced back and forth between Eddie’s eyes and somewhere off in the distance. “Can I ask you s-s-some things? I don’t really kn-know much about qu-qu-queer people, but I want to. I want to know what I’ve mmmissed in your life.”

“Yeah, of course, you can ask me anything.”

Bill shifted on his feet, jerking his head in the direction of the Losers’ picnic. Eddie walked with him. “Sssso, when Richie said you’d f-finally gotten laid, does that m-mean it was with a guy?”

“Yeah it was. I’ve only kissed a girl once and it was in spin the bottle.” Bill nodded along as Eddie spoke. “I sort of dated this guy in my stats class, Ryan. We were both mostly in the closet so we were each other’s first everything. Well, almost. He wasn’t my first kiss.”

“Who was?”

“Uh, do you remember Matt Roberts from Seattle?”

“Your t-tr-track friend? No way.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yep. Gay as they come.”

“I g-g-guess you can never tell.”

“How about you, Billy? You were still with Jessica when I left.”

Bill snorted. “Yeah. We o-only lasted a couple of mmmonths in Chicago.” A soft flush rose to his cheeks, piquing Eddie’s interest. “But I sssstudied abroad last s-s-semester in England and I met so-someone there.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in a long-distance relationship.”

“I am in a l-l-long-distance relationship.”

“God, Bill, are you insane? How do you even manage?”

“Audra’s fantastic. Sh-sh-she’s actually really funny, she wants to b-be an actress, and she’s encouraged me to write a proper n-no-novel.”

“She sounds like she’d get along with Richie.”

Bill smiled. “I’d love for you all to mmmeet her.”

They stopped talking when they reached the picnic rug, Eddie settling into Richie’s open arms and Bill sitting by Stan’s side. Those two exchanged a look and then Stan looked to Eddie, offering a minute smile.

“Eds! Bev and I found the perfect spot to go swimming later. There’s a bunch of food trucks parked a few miles down there and a cute little patch of grass for you and boring Benjamin to avoid getting splashed. Whaddya say?”

Eddie leaned into Richie’s body, basking in the warmth from the sun and his friends’ unwavering love. “That sounds perfect.”

The week was over far quicker than Eddie would have liked, and _he_ had been the one complaining about overstaying their welcome at Ben and Beverly’s not five days prior. The Losers found a cinema in Ithaca near Ben’s college where they spent at least half a day sneaking in and out of different movies, making up backstories for ones none of them had seen the start of and debating possible endings for ones they left early. Eddie’s cheeks were aching from smiling and laughing so much. Now that they’d reconnected, he didn’t want to stop seeing their friends, but he knew, realistically, that they’d all be far too busy to coordinate any catch-ups during the semester. Winter break seemed like so far away.

Stan left first, then Mike, then Bill, all within two days. Eddie felt a hole in his chest growing wider with each goodbye hug, each shed tear, willing the universe to go easy on them all so they could find time for each other in the next few months. Beverly whispered words of encouragement into his ear when she and Ben dropped him and Richie off at the station to head home, letting him know that she was only a phone call away if he needed anything. He’d definitely take her up on that offer.

The moment they stepped foot in their apartment again, Eddie’s shoulders slumped and he dropped his suitcase by the door, fumbling for Richie’s arm and pulling him in to bury his face in his neck.

“I miss them already,” Eddie mumbled.

Richie stroked his hair. “Me too, Spaghetti. Me too.”

Eddie called his boss the very next day, updating his availability so he could distract himself from the lack of Losers in his life by working every day they’d have him. With Ryan having quit his job after things got awkward between them, Eddie found himself talking to his boss, Jennifer, more and more. She was always hooking him up with bottles of wine and new nail polish and CDs for his car, sort of reminding him of Beverly’s aunt Linda. The moms he wished he had. 

Soon enough, with Jennifer giving him every shift he asked for, Eddie had no time to miss his friends. He only had time for work and Richie, because Eddie always had time for Richie. He caught him once sleeping in Eddie’s letterman jacket when Eddie was working a closing shift and had then promised to drive a coworker home, only getting home himself at nearly ten. Richie was curled up on Eddie’s bed in his too-small jacket, glasses and shoes still on, and Eddie made sure to carefully maneuver him under the blankets, sliding in next to him into the already-warm bed.

Being on summer vacation and not having a litany of friends to occupy themselves with, Eddie and Richie developed a sort of routine for their working days and their days off - although those were few and far between, especially with Richie working two jobs. On working days, Richie was in charge of breakfast, Eddie was in charge of dinner. Richie packed Eddie’s bag for him while Eddie showered in the morning, kissed him on the forehead as he left the apartment and greeted him with a running hug when he came home, like they hadn’t seen each other six hours ago. On days off, Richie brought his acoustic guitar outside whenever Eddie wanted to tinker with the car, improvising the dumbest songs Eddie had ever heard. 

“ _You know at children's parties_ _there’s that kid who won’t stop screaming, he's just an attention attractor and he’ll grow up to be a comic or actor. He'll be praised for never maturing, never understanding or learni—_ Hey, wait, that kid was me, holy shit.”

Eddie thumped his head on the underside of the car because he burst out laughing, leaving a bruise that lasted for three days.

They fawned over Mel Gibson in Braveheart, Richie irritated the hell out of Eddie by blasting Bryan Adams’ song Have You Ever Loved A Woman from his stereo, and Eddie returned the favour by forcing them both to watch some new dating show called Singled Out. They called the Losers whenever they could, especially making sure to check up on Bill when a heatwave hit the U.K. Mike told them about this stupid new dance everyone was doing, which Richie then had to learn and forced Eddie to watch him flail about every day for a whole week.

“It’s called the Macarena, Eds! C’mere! I’ll guide you.”

“I hope you don’t pull this shit out in clubs because I refuse to be associated with you in public when you have as much grace as a headless chicken.”

Eddie liked to moan and groan, but he still let Richie manhandle his arms, showing him the moves. And he really hated how much he blushed when Richie’s hands landed on his hips, swivelling them around and jumping them both to face a different direction. He couldn’t help but arch into the touch when Richie’s hands lingered on his hips even after the music ended, when Richie leaned in slightly and nuzzled the back of Eddie’s neck with his nose.

He was starting to feel like he was really getting somewhere with his internal conflict of not being able to speak his mind, and that he was getting through to Richie with his actions instead - his soft touches and long gazes, fingertips grazing Richie’s skin whenever he could and hands running through his hair whenever he wanted. Eddie sometimes felt like Richie might actually say something about it, even if he himself could not find the right words or the right time.

Then Richie went to a party and didn’t come home at the end of the night.

Eddie couldn’t be sure about what kinds of thoughts occupied Richie’s brain, obviously, but he had been under the impression that, although having not discussed the _thing_ between them due to his own inability to talk about his feelings and Richie’s apparent fear of.... something or the other, they were both aware of said thing. He couldn’t possibly believe Richie was that blind that he didn’t see and feel the thing, because no one was that oblivious… right? There was no way in hell he had misread the last two fucking years of their friendship-relationship-thing.

Yet, he was lying in Richie’s bed in the morning and Richie wasn’t there, and Eddie was even wearing the Cheshire Cat pyjama shorts Richie’d gotten him for his birthday. He’d gone to some party with his drama club friends and hadn’t come home because he was probably sleeping off his hangover at some random person’s house, feeling as horribly alone as Eddie was right now.

At least, Eddie _assumed_ Richie would be alone. Surely he wouldn’t… be with someone. Surely he felt what Eddie felt happening between them. Sometimes the air felt thick with it, like it was something tangible Eddie could reach out and grab and hold close to his chest, bury it in his heart. With all the _I love you_ s and the night time cuddles, he’d started to feel like maybe they were almost - dare he think it - dating. But not dating, because they hadn’t. Fucking. Talked about it.

Eddie was starting to get annoyed with himself.

He shot up in bed when he heard the front door open, telltale sounds of Richie stumbling into their apartment. He heard Richie groan, feet dragging along the floor as he walked towards the bedroom. Eddie stayed sitting up in Richie’s bed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Richie muttered, one hand rubbing his face with his glasses pushed onto his head. “Oh, mornin’, Eds.” He dropped his hand and stared at Eddie for a moment, brows pinched together like he was confused about why Eddie would have been sleeping in his bed. Like he hadn’t been sleeping in it _with him_ for months now. “Sorry I didn’t come home last night. I was, uh, pretty fuckin’ wasted.” Richie shrugged off his jacket and patterned shirt in one movement, revealing his crumpled PlayStation t-shirt underneath and—

And a hickey poking out from his t-shirt collar.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie snapped, unthinking, hand shooting out to point at the offending mark.

“Huh?” Richie reached up to feel his neck. “Oh, some guy was suuuper keen to get into my pants last night,” he chuckled.

“Some guy?” Eddie’s jaw clenched, chest tightening as anger started building inside him.

“Yeah, I don’t know who.”

Richie threw his clothes on the floor and slipped his glasses back on, turning on his heel and leaving the room like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Eddie who now had an intense desire to fucking _murder_ someone. (He tried to remind himself that since they weren’t actually dating, he had no say in what Richie did with boys he met at parties, but was definitely allowed to feel jealous as all hell.) He leapt out of bed and followed Richie into the living area.

“Well, did you let him?” Eddie continued.

“Nah, ‘course not, Eds.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you come home?”

Richie just shrugged. “I dunno, I think I passed out somewhere. I don’t really remember. Why does that matter? I’m here now.”

“What the fuck, Richie?!”

Richie flinched, watching Eddie curiously as he started pacing around the living room. _Talk to him. He’s confused, look at him._ Eddie’s inner voice was sounding suspiciously like Beverly.

“Eds? What’s wrong?” Richie’s voice had gone soft, both in volume and tone. “Did I forget something?”

Eddie spun around, now standing in front of the couch. “Is something wrong?” His hand flew out, palm up, gesturing at Richie. “Did I never cross your mind at all last night?” Hand curled into a fist. “I stayed up till two in the morning waiting for you. I fell asleep in _your_ bed while staying up waiting for you. Did it not occur to you that I might have liked you to come home to me instead of drinking yourself stupid and making out with some random guy? I was worried about you!”

Richie blinked, lips parting. “Eds, I didn’t—”

“Shut _up._ And you let this random guy kiss you? I thought we were on the same page here! Just because I never said anything doesn’t mean I never _felt_ it! Are you telling me you don’t feel it? How can you not feel it, Richie?”

“Eddie—”

“I thought we were on the same page here,” he repeated, quieter this time. Richie was still staring at him. “I thought… I thought you _knew._ ”

“Eddie,” Richie said, more firmly this time. “Knew what?”

Eddie threw his hands in the air. “Us! This thing we’ve been doing! This thing we have!” He gestured between them, hands waving about in front of his body. “I thought you felt it, too.”

Eddie could hear Richie’s breathing from across the room, see his chest rising and falling, his lips parted, eyes wide and brows so densely furrowed together that he was bound to leave a permanent crease between them. Eddie’s heart was thundering so loudly against his ribcage that he was sure Richie could hear it, too. He could feel it echoing in his ears. Breathing and pounding, not another sound in the room.

“Eds, what are you saying?” Richie breathed.

“I’m _saying_ that I don’t fucking cuddle with all of my friends. That I don’t fucking run away with just anyone unless they mean something special to me. I thought all the affection would set something off in that stupid head of yours and you’d realise how I feel about you!”

Richie’s jaw dropped. “We’ve always been like this, Eds. Since we were little kids, we’ve always been all over each other. I wasn’t sure if anything had changed or if we were just being the same weirdly close friends we’d always been.”

“We are not just friends and you fucking know it,” Eddie snapped. “And we’re not twelve anymore, either! We’re adults who _live together,_ for fuck’s sake! How could you think it didn’t mean anything?”

“I-I thought it did, too, but I just— I care about you _so much_ and I don’t want to fuck everything up and lose you, so I never said anything.”

“You thought—?” They had been on the same page the whole time and Eddie was right that Richie was scared and Beverly was right that Eddie just needed to _talk_ to him. Eddie’s heart was ricocheting around inside his ribs. He was tired of his feelings being misinterpreted and their inability to communicate hindering what was so obviously a mutual feeling. He needed to make himself crystal clear. “Richie,” he said, exasperated. “I’m _in love_ with you.”

Richie didn’t speak for the longest moment, just stood there and stared at Eddie, and like every other time Eddie had confessed something, a fleeting thought crossed his mind that he’d gotten everything wrong, until he noticed the wetness building in Richie’s eyes.

“ _Eds._ ” Richie crossed the room in three quick strides and was standing right in front of Eddie, their chests nearly touching. “Is this real life?” He brought his hand up to hold Eddie’s cheek as Eddie nodded. “Oh, Eddie, my love. It’s always been you,” Richie breathed.

Eddie’s heart fluttered, flipping around in his chest and radiating so much warmth, he didn’t know how to contain it. His lips twitched into the softest, happiest smile as he ran his hand up Richie’s arm, resting it against his neck. For so many months, he’d been worried about what to say to Richie, how to express himself, whether or not it was the right time, and after all that waiting and pondering, here was Richie on the verge of joyful tears, standing in front of him and looking down into his eyes like he thought Eddie was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t know why he’d cared so much about whether or not the time was right when it came to loving Richie. Fuck the right time. Eddie wanted this _now._

“You know, for someone so smart, you really are a dumbass sometimes,” Eddie said, and then he pulled Richie down to his level and kissed him.

Richie’s lips were soft, his entire body instantly melting against Eddie’s at every point where they were touching. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck and pulled him closer, Richie’s hands finding Eddie’s waist and gripping when Eddie parted his lips and tilted his head. A noise escaped Richie’s mouth and that just urged Eddie on even more. His tongue darted out to swipe across Richie’s lips until he parted them with a breathy little whimper that made Eddie’s insides jolt with arousal. He slid his hand up to tangle in Richie’s hair, tugging lightly, and Richie _moaned._

“Shit,” Richie breathed into Eddie’s mouth. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie mumbled back, sealing their lips together again. He pushed his body against him as Richie’s arms snaked around his back, keeping them pressed tightly together. Eddie hummed into the kiss, unable to stop his lips twitching into a smile, still pressed against Richie’s, until he had to pull back to breathe, eyes fluttering open to look up at him. “God, Rich.”

“Eds. Jesus, _Eds._ ” Richie started laughing, eyes twinkling. “I fucking _adore_ you. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea.” Eddie smirked, running his hands through Richie’s hair until he hummed pleasantly.

“No, I don’t think you do. I can’t believe this is happening.” Richie dropped the smile and stared at Eddie, more serious than Eddie had ever seen him look in his life. “I am _so_ in love with you.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “I have been for as long as I can remember.” Another kiss, this time on the other side of his mouth. “I would do anything you wanted.” Another kiss on the tip of his nose. “Anything at all, if you asked me.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. All I want is to see you happy, Eds.”

Eddie nearly whimpered. “Richie, I love you so fucking much.”

Richie’s entire face softened for a moment, then his eyebrows pinched together. “Hey, in terms of the whole, me being so oblivious and not noticing you coming onto me, in my defence, we've been saying ‘I love you’ to each other for literal years, so there is no way I could’ve known it suddenly meant something different.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s always meant something different, you dipshit.”

Richie smiled fondly. “Don’t ever change your nicknames, Edward Spaghedward.”

“Remind me why I’m attracted to you?”

“I dunno, Eds. Must be my enormou—”

“God, shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie breathed, then surged forward and kissed him again.

This time was immediately more intense than their first kiss. Less exploratory, more demanding. Eddie’s tongue prodded against Richie’s mouth straight away, pushing its way inside and licking along the backs of his teeth. Richie groaned and sucked on Eddie’s tongue, moving their mouths together and nipping at Eddie’s lips. Eddie stepped backwards and his legs hit the couch, so he grabbed Richie by his t-shirt and spun them around, pushing him until he sat down and then crawled into his lap. He straddled Richie’s thighs and leaned down to kiss him again, hands finding their way back into his hair.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Richie mumbled against his mouth. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Shut up.” Eddie gave an experimental tug on Richie’s hair, drawing another noise out of him that made Eddie want to just settle into his lap and grind down until they were both gasping for breath. Richie’s hands gripped Eddie’s thighs, blunt nails and calloused fingertips digging into his skin where his shorts had ridden up. “You talk way too much.”

“You are literally the one talking now.” Eddie yanked on Richie’s hair again, pulling his head back so his neck was on display, and leaned in again to press kisses along his jaw. “Oh, fuck, Eddie,” Richie groaned when Eddie’s mouth found its way to his neck, finally getting to sink his teeth into that pale skin he’d been dreaming about for years. He found the offending hickey from _that guy_ and sealed his mouth over it, sucking hard, making it his own. Richie whined.

“ _You_ are so hot,” Eddie mumbled against his skin, hips shifting slightly, the growing warmth inside him practically begging for him to press his hips against Richie’s. Richie let out another noise that went straight to Eddie’s dick. “Rich, can I—?”

“Anything,” Richie said immediately. “Yes, anything.”

“Fuck.” Eddie licked a stripe up Richie’s neck and bit down again, grinding his hips and _fuck,_ he could feel Richie’s cock hard in his jeans and they were just _kissing._ “Oh, god.”

“I’m sorry,” Richie blurted out. “I’ve just— I’ve wanted this for so long, Eds, and you’re so fucking gorgeous on top of me and—”

“ _Richie,_ ” Eddie cut him off, released his hair and grabbed his hands from where they were still gripping Eddie’s thighs, moving them around to his ass. “Please just touch me.”

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Richie said, hands squeezing and helping Eddie roll his hips down again with another moan, grinding their dicks together. Eddie pressed his lips against Richie’s to swallow his moans and keep him from talking, finding a rhythm with Richie’s hands that were gripping and squeezing Eddie’s ass like he couldn’t get enough. One of Eddie’s hands wormed its way back into Richie’s hair once more, the other resting against the wall behind the couch, while Richie’s slid from Eddie’s ass back up to his hips, lingering by the hem of his (Richie’s) t-shirt. 

“Yes,” Eddie breathed against his lips. Richie’s ridiculously large hands skirted along the skin of Eddie’s torso, his touch far too light for Eddie’s liking. He pulled back and attached his teeth to Richie’s neck again. “God, you are all talk and no walk, Richie. Come on, I want this.” Eddie pulled back further to look down at Richie’s face. His cheeks were flushed pink and his glasses askew on his face, lips red and kiss-bitten and so fucking gorgeous, Eddie couldn’t stop himself leaning in and kissing him one more time. “Do you not…?”

“No! I do! I do, I really fucking do, Eds.” Richie shook his head. “I’m just… _so_ conscious of not fucking it up.”

“You won’t,” Eddie assured him. He slipped Richie’s glasses off and folded them on the coffee table. “I love you and I really, _really_ want to touch you right now.”

Richie nodded. “Okay,” he said, and then pushed up to kiss Eddie, slightly off centre, open-mouthed and sloppy and _perfect._

Richie’s hands snaked around Eddie’s waist and pulled him fully down into his lap, their cocks grinding together through all their layers. Eddie moaned against his mouth, slid his hands up Richie’s arms to grip his biceps, marvelling at how much he’d grown from that skinny beanpole he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Eddie rocked down into Richie’s lap, drawing more soft noises from his throat, getting back to the rhythm and pace they had going before. He pulled back and planted his hands on Richie’s shoulders, bringing his hips down against him over and over. Richie took the moment to surge up and suck a mark into Eddie’s neck that he knew he was going to complain about later, but couldn’t find it in himself to stop it now.

“Richie,” Eddie whimpered. “Richie.”

“If you keep saying that, I’m going to— _oh,_ I’m gonna come in two seconds.”

Eddie’s hips stuttered. “ _Fuck._ ” That just spurred him on and he grinded down again, harder and faster and more erratically until he felt Richie’s arms tense beneath his hands.

“Eddie, Eddie, _shit,_ I’m gonna—”

“Yes, me too, come _on—_ ”

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Oh, _god,_ Rich.” Eddie grabbed Richie by the shirt and crashed their lips together, moaning into his mouth as hot release flooded throughout his body and he was coming, Richie’s fingers digging into his skin and his hips stuttering until he was coming, too, mumbling Eddie’s name over and over.

Eddie pulled back and sucked in a breath, head spinning, and looked Richie in the eye. Richie’s hand shot out to the side, fumbling for his glasses, until Eddie took pity on him and picked them up and slid them onto his face.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Eddie,” Richie breathed, chest still heaving, lips twitching up into his signature smirk. “And you make the prettiest noises when you’re about to come.”

Eddie smacked him on the arm. “Shut up, Trashmouth,” he grumbled, but his face broke out into a wide smile, looking at Richie with such adoration, he felt like his chest was going to burst. Then he realised how disgusting they both were. “Ugh, this is fucking gross.”

“It’s like we’re like teenagers all over again. Off like a rocket, comin’ in our pants.”

Eddie smacked him again. “I’m fucking in love with you and I have no idea why.”

“Mmm, sweet talk me some more, babycakes.”

Eddie ignored the nickname and knocked his forehead against Richie’s, deciding to respond honestly and try to say some of the things that had been on his mind all this time. “I love you more than I know how to express in words and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. We could… We could have been doing this for years.”

“We could have been fucking each others’ brains out for years?”

“This is hardly fucking.”

“My my, Eddie Spaghetti, I never took you for such a little skank.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You know nothing of my sex life. And you’re gonna be surprised, I can tell you that.”

Richie swallowed. “I can’t wait. Now, keep on with the sweet talkin’. I need my years’ worth made up for.”

Running a hand up and down Richie’s arm, Eddie offered him a soft, fond smile. “I care about you more than anyone else in the entire universe and… even though I always act like you’re a pain in my ass, I love you _so_ much, you dork.”

Richie stared at him for a long moment, and his voice went quiet when he spoke again. “We’ve said that to each other so many times and I… I never thought you could mean it the way I wanted you to.” He brushed his hand across Eddie’s cheek. “I wasn’t kidding when I said all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

“ _You_ make me happy, Richie. You’ve always made me happy.” Eddie ducked his head and kissed Richie gently. “I am so, _so_ happy to be here with you right now.” Knowing Richie’s eyes were about to start welling up with tears, Eddie climbed off his lap and extended a hand, nodding in gesture towards the bathroom. “Come on, we have to clean up. If this shit dries, I’m going to kill you.”

When they were clean and changed and sitting at the kitchen table across from each other, cups of coffee in each of their hands, Richie started laughing.

“What?” Eddie asked.

“I’m just… I can’t believe this. Like, not even a little bit. My eyes are killing me from staying open ‘cause I keep expecting to blink and it’ll all be gone, another one of my stupid daydreams.”

Eddie’s heart clenched and he frowned. “Richie, I’ll keep telling you for the rest of my life how fucking much I love you if it’ll get you to believe it.” That made Richie smile.

“The rest of your life, huh? What happened to kickin’ me out when we were twenty-five?” He chuckled. “You know, your mom sure ain’t gonna be happy about me breakin’ up with her to be with her son.”

Eddie groaned. “Don’t even start with the mom jokes, Tozier, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, hey, does this mean we can ditch the twin share bedroom and get us a nice, big ol’ double bed?”

They hadn’t even talked about what their relationship was going to be like going forward, but Eddie didn’t think they had to. Still, he wanted to see the look on Richie’s face when he asked. “Of course… But only if you agree to one thing.”

“What’s that, ma darlin’?”

“Okay, two things. Firstly: relax with the Voices when we’re having a serious conversation.”

“Noted, Spagheds.” Richie flicked his fingers out in a salute. “And the other?”

Eddie licked his lips, trying to tame his smile. “Be my boyfriend?”

Richie’s eyes practically sparkled and his big, dumb teeth poked through his blinding smile. He suddenly stood up and leaned across the table, pulling Eddie into a kiss. “Why, Eddie my love,” he pulled back to say, “It would be my honour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS CHAPTER HOLY FUCK PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS AND COME TALK TO ME ON [TUMBLR](http://www.bowtiescarves.tumblr.com) <3


	17. Wild time with Ten Inch Tozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August - November 1995. Richie starts to address his fears. Eddie starts learning to express himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS we hit 200 kudos and 3000 hits oh my god!! I get so fucking smiley every time I open ao3 because of the amazing comments y’all are leaving, and also on tumblr?? so many lovely messages holy shit I’m so thankful <333
> 
> Now listen. In this chapter, there is a song (well just lyrics really) that I wrote. I’ve also included a link to the main inspiration for the fic song right before the lyrics start in the fic. I had its tone/sound/tempo/etc in mind when I wrote the fic song so I highly recommend listening to the first minute or so before reading my lyrics, I think it’s really gonna set the mood (i.e. get a feel for the tone and stuff, don’t worry about the lyrics in the video too much) <3
> 
> Warnings for: actual discussions of (not just allusions to) depression/suicidal thoughts/etc you know the drill. Also. The first scene mentions police officers but this chapter started being written nearly two months ago so I am deeply apologetic if anyone feels triggered by it. It’s really just a few lines but I just wanted to mention it in case. I hope everyone is staying safe xxx

Richie was feeling pretty fucking amazing and it had everything to do with the fact that Eddie, his  _ boyfriend _ – that’s right, boyfriend! – was holding his hand as they walked through the streets of New York on one of their last days of summer break, while waving his other hand about in front of his face in his weird little karate-chop motion and complaining endlessly about how they should have cleared out their fridge before they left the apartment to go bed shopping because there was definitely some chicken that was about to go off in there.

“We bought those chicken thighs before Wednesday and that means it’s been more than three days and you know, Richie, because I’ve told you a thousand times, but raw chicken can’t be kept in the fridge for more than three days and even three days is pushing it, so we should have either cooked it last night and then kept it for a couple more days or just thrown it out this mor— Hey! We’re walkin’ here! Watch where you’re going, dickhead! Anyway, those thighs probably need to be thrown out  _ as soon _ as we get home otherwise they’re going to stink up the whole—”

“I’m far more interested in  _ your _ thighs, Eddie Spaghetti—”

“Do you think salmonella is a joke?!” Eddie spun around to face Richie. “If you even  _ think _ about cooking that chicken when we get back I will personally see to it that you are heckled off the stage at The Ponyboy next weekend.”

“That sounds kinda hot. Will it involve you shouting dirty words in my face? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, Eds, you shouting at me really—”

“Oh my  _ god, _ who do the cops around here think they  _ are?_” Eddie pointed at the road where several police officers on horses were walking down the street by them. “I can’t  _ believe, _ in this decade, that mounted police haven’t been disbanded. It’s a hundred fucking degrees and they’re making those poor animals work like that.” Eddie shook his head as a family walking in front of them stopped to take photos of the horses. “Hey! Why don’t you teach your kids some respect for animals instead of whipping out your camera and then running back to your air-conditioned Mazda while those poor creatures are  _ sweltering _ out here! Yeah, that’s right, just walk away from the problem! Really mature! What great role models you are!” Eddie let out a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?”

“I just… really fucking love you,” Richie said, and then pulled Eddie in by the hand and leaned down to kiss him, just because he  _ could. _ “You’re like an angry, sexy little firecracker.”

“How is that even appealing?”

“Have I not expressed, on a multitude of occasions, how your yelling turns me on?”

“Oh, beep beep, dickhead.”

Finding a bed frame and mattress that didn’t cost an arm and a leg wasn’t too difficult, considering Eddie’s literal  _ list _ of standards and room measurements and colour options and other things that Richie didn’t even know had to be considered when buying a new bed.

“You’re not even twenty and your back is already acting up,” Eddie told him, “So, no, we are not getting that kind of mattress. And don’t even  _ think _ about searching for doona covers in the children’s section because if I find out you’ve bought some fucking Superman sheets, I can promise you that we will never—”

Richie ducked down for another kiss, holding Eddie’s face between his hands. When he pulled back and looked down at him, Eddie’s eyes were soft around the edges, mouth twitching at the corners like he was trying to hold back a smile.

“I love you,” Richie said, “Just in case you forgot in the past fifteen minutes since I said it last. I love you, Eds.”

Eddie let the smile through, taking over half his face. “I love you, too, but don’t think this means I’m letting you get superhero bed sheets.”

Richie threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll take whatever bed sheets you want.”

“Damn right, you will.”

The first night they got to spend in their brand new bed together was exciting mostly because of the space they’d have to move about, where Eddie wouldn’t knee him in the gut or kick him in the shin when he squirmed around at night. After spending all evening putting the bed together, that first night, all they did was sleep.

The second night was Sunday, and that meant college went back tomorrow. Richie was tucked into Eddie’s side under a thin sheet, arms wrapped loosely around his middle. He still wasn’t sure what good karma had resulted in this being his life right now.

“What time do you start tomorrow?” Richie asked.

“Two, I think. No morning classes on Mondays, thank fuck.”

“I’ll bring home some lunch for you ‘cause I finish at twelve.”

Eddie looked down at him. “You have a morning class?”

“I do. Though, now I know you don’t, maybe I’ll see if I can switch into another day so we can have Monday mornin’ snuggles.” Richie nuzzled into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie giggled. “Stop it, that tickles,” he said, and Richie grinned, then pursed his lips and blew a raspberry into Eddie’s neck. Eddie shrieked. “Richie! Cut it out! That  _ tickles!_” He clamped his hand over Richie’s mouth before he could do it again, glaring down at him. “At least now I have a way to keep your damn mouth occupied,” he murmured, removing his hand to lean down and kiss him.

The angle was a bit off until Richie tilted his head and their lips slotted together perfectly, Eddie humming contently like the cute, angry little cat he was. Richie shifted again, propping himself up on his elbow, and let Eddie’s tongue slide into his mouth. Richie was just wearing boxers and he could feel himself getting embarrassingly hard already. He moved his hips back as Eddie turned his body so they were facing each other, one arm still tucked under Richie’s neck. Richie pulled back just long enough to slip his glasses off and toss them on the nightstand and when he returned, Eddie was sitting up, legs stretched in front of him, and he opened his arms for Richie to clamber awkwardly into his lap. Richie tried to fold his legs under himself but he could feel the pull on his upper thigh muscles, so he ended up sitting between Eddie’s legs with his own wrapped around Eddie’s waist. This position certainly wasn’t doing his back any favours.

Richie took Eddie’s face between his hands and dove back in, kissing him square on the mouth and licking his way inside immediately. Eddie groaned, sending a wave of arousal through Richie’s body and straight to his dick. Eddie pressed forward more, making Richie arch his back to accommodate. The slide of Eddie’s lips against his was intoxicating, made his head spin until he forgot to breathe and had to pull back, knocking his nose against Eddie’s and sighing happily.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” Richie whispered. “I never, not in a bajillion years, thought I would get to have this with you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed together and he frowned. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. Although,  _ you _ could have said something, idiot.”

“Yeah, right. With all the shit that goes on in here?” He tapped a finger against his temple. “Fat chance. I thought you deserved better. I… I still do.”

“Richie, sweetheart, no.” Eddie tilted his head and pressed their lips together, hand clutching at Richie’s waist. “I don’t know how to say the things I think and feel most of the time, but I’ll happily tell you over and over on a continuous loop that I love you.”

“You should definitely do that. Chuck it on a mixtape and press it to vinyl. It’ll fly off the shelves.  _ I love you, Richie. I love you, Richie." _

“I do  _ not _ sound like that!”

Richie grinned. “You’re so easy to rile up, Eds. Makes my world that much brighter.”

“See, how the hell do you do that? Where does this stuff come from?”

“Definitely from that one weekend Bev and I watched When Harry Met Sally four times because she wanted to show Benjamin her soft side. It probably helped me more than her.” Eddie rolled his eyes. Richie chuckled. “I don’t know, honest. It just comes to me. It’s a gift.”

Eddie sighed. “I just want to  _ tell _ you how I feel.”

“It’s okay, Eds. You showed me plenty the other day.” Richie winked.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “We should get to sleep. You have to be up early.”

“Aw, no quickie before bed to tire me out?” Richie teased. Eddie just raised an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, I surrender. To sleep, I’ll go,” Richie said in his best Yoda impression.

Eddie smacked his lips. “That was actually really good.”

Richie grinned. “Come on, cuddle bug. Hold me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Please hold me?”

Eddie complied.

They didn’t see much of each other for the next couple of weeks outside the occasional lunch in passing or before-bed cuddles where one of them inevitably passed out in the middle of a conversation. Richie had an audition in a few days and he and Alex had been rehearsing songs and running lines practically every day, while Eddie was busy working on an application for some special internship and also drowning in group assignments where he was convinced he held all the academic weight and that his group members were useless. Richie got promoted at Domino’s, so he quit his job at the music store – not before using his staff discount to spoil Eddie rotten with a bunch of new CDs and vinyls – leaving him more time during the day to swing past Eddie’s classrooms, blowing kisses through the window and making him blush like crazy, and drop off lunch whenever Eddie was holed up in the library studying.

Richie’s audition went smoothly, but that was just about the only thing that went right in those first couple of weeks of sophomore year. Eddie came home almost in tears when he bumped into Ryan and his new boyfriend at the Japanese restaurant they were choosing to frequent instead of Chick-Fil-A. Richie held Eddie on the couch, rubbing his back and his hair like he did when Ryan rejected him the first time, assuring Eddie that he didn’t mind that he was crying over a sort-of-ex because Richie, of all people, understood what it was like to feel not good enough for someone and see someone else take their place.

Then Richie got a C on a test and was suddenly worried about losing his scholarship, not knowing how to study for a history of theatre assessment because history in high school had been all about dates and names and weaving his elaborate vocabulary together into a nice sounding sentence as Eddie taught him how to do. Richie was smart, but he didn’t know how to study because he’d hardly needed to before. Spending time in the library together, working on essays and exercises was hardly the way they’d imagined or wanted to spend their first few weeks as boyfriends, but here they were.

Once Richie handed in his extra credit assignment and went back to Eddie in the library, he saw Eddie had packed up all their stuff.

“Done for the day?”

“Done for the fucking week, actually. This is my last thing that’s due.” Eddie held up a piece of paper.

“Does this mean we’re both free? As in free and available and have nothing to do for the rest of the day?”

Eddie raised his brows. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”

They had their hands all over each other while they ran up the stairs to their apartment, stopping every few steps to haul the other in for a kiss that was way too much tongue and not much else.

“Richie,” Eddie giggled. “What happened to being cute and making lunch together?”

“Hush, my love. Let me smooch you.” Richie leaned into his space, crowding him against the stairwell and swooping back down to kiss him. Then Eddie’s stomach rumbled. Very loudly.

Eddie grimaced. “I did tell you I was hungry.”

“Hungry for this dick?”

“Shut up.” He pried Richie’s hands off his waist.  _ "Later." _

That was promising. Perhaps they’d finally do something in their bed that wasn’t sleeping.

Their landline started ringing as soon as Richie had taken the bread rolls out of the pantry. His hands were in the fridge, searching for butter and sandwich meat, so Eddie went to answer it.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Jen… Uh, yeah I can. Maybe twenty minutes… No, it’s fine. Yeah, sure, see you soon.”

Richie put down the food and stood up straight, his heart and mood deflating at the name-drop of Eddie’s boss. “Work calling you in?”

“Yeah, someone’s sick.” Eddie sighed, frowning, and walked slowly over to Richie, extending his arms to engulf him in a hug. “This sucks.”

“I miss you already, Spaghetti.”

“It’s just until six. I’ll be back for dinner. Want me to pick up something on the way?”

“No, it’s alright, I’ll get something and have it ready for when you get home.”

“Okay.” Eddie lifted onto his toes to kiss Richie, soft and sweet, lingering for a second, before falling to flat feet again. He grabbed a plain bread roll from the table. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He picked up his keys where he’d just placed them on the counter and his bag where he’d left it by the front door.

“I’ll be ready and waiting,” Richie replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “Might even jerk off thinkin’ about you.”

Eddie gave him a pointed look. “Don’t you dare. I’m expecting to be wooed when I return.”

Richie saluted with a chuckle. “Aye aye, Cap’n.”

As soon as the door closed behind Eddie, Richie picked up the phone again and dialled Beverly and Ben’s number. If Eddie was going to be out of the house for four hours and wanted to be wooed, only one of Bev’s five-star recipes would do for the occasion. Richie’s cooking repertoire still consisted only of pancakes and pasta, so a full-blown meal would undoubtedly prove to be challenging, but for Eddie, he would endure.

By the time six o’clock rolled around, Richie had candles lit up on the dining table, a glass with a handful of roses in it, and two table settings perfectly arranged with placemats and folded napkins and all. Eddie wanted to be romanced and Richie Tozier did not do things in halves when it came to Eddie. Richie had his acoustic guitar on his lap on the couch when he heard the sound of jingling keys at the front door. He got up, smoothed down his shirt – a relatively plain purple one with simple little crosses on it, nothing outrageous – and zoomed across the room to smack his hand over Eddie’s eyes as soon as he opened the door.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shh, just listen. We’re going into the bedroom and you’re gonna change into some real nice date attire and not ask any more questions, ‘kay?” Richie could practically see Eddie roll his eyes through his own hand.

“Yeah, okay. Just get a move on, I’m starving.”

Eddie reentered the living room in black pants and a deep red shirt and Richie very nearly abandoned the whole dinner thing to rush forward and ravish Eddie on the spot. He refrained, somehow, and bowed like the gentleman he was, gesturing grandly to the magnificently prepared table.

“Eddie, my love. Dinner, prepared by yours truly, is served.”

“You cooked?”

“Jeez, Eds, no need to sound so disdainful. Have a little faith.” Eddie just raised an eyebrow, sceptically glancing from Richie to the table, and Richie supposed that was fair enough, given his track record. “Come sit?”

Richie pulled out Eddie’s chair for him and even unfolded his napkin, laying it across his lap and making Eddie’s cheeks flush pink. “Thank you,” Eddie said, still sounding a little surprised.

After Richie had settled into his own seat, he reached one hand across the table, palm up, until Eddie took it. “This is our first official date as boyfriends and I wanted to do something special for you,” he explained.

Eddie’s expression softened and he squeezed Richie’s hand. “Did you learn to cook just for this?”

“I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya, Eds, that I’d do anything for you. You just haven’t been listenin’.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb across Richie’s skin, clearing his throat. “I really love you.”

“Wait till you’ve tried the food, then we’ll see.”

The food really wasn’t all that bad. Nothing like Eddie’s cooking, but a damn sight better than his usual kitchen monstrosities. Eddie’s steak was medium-rare and Richie’s (because he was a philistine, Eddie said) was medium, topped off with buttered peas and baked potatoes. The red wine sauce was a bit of a let down, mostly because they didn’t have the right kind of wine and Richie didn’t have enough time to find his fake ID  _ and _ buy all these candles, and he felt the candles provided a much needed romantic atmosphere, something to differentiate this dinner from every other dinner they’d eaten at this table together in the past year.

Eddie put down his fork and looked at Richie, eyes sparkling a little as he dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” he almost whispered. “It was actually pretty good, Rich, considering you didn’t have my help.”

“I may or may not have been on the phone to Bev for two and a half hours straight.”

Eddie snorted. “I knew it. I fuckin’ knew it.”

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts!”

“It is,” Eddie said, voice soft and warm.

Richie hummed. “How was work? Any interesting stories for me today?”

“Actually, there is one. This guy came in today that reminded me so much of you that I had to do a double-take. He was in his mid-thirties or something but, Richie, he wearing Birkenstocks with fucking llama printed socks and he had big glasses and his t-shirt had some stupid caption on it that made me laugh so hard that I actually went up to him and asked him where he got it.”

“What did it say?”

“It wasn’t even that funny! It just had a sign on it that said ‘warning: I do dumb things’ and I just—” Eddie dropped his head and started laughing. “It’s not even funny! It just reminded me  _ so much _ of you that I couldn’t get over myself.”

Richie grinned. “Couldn’t get me outta your head, eh?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and gave Richie a fond smile. “Unfortunately, Richard, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for years.” With that, he got up and started clearing the table, taking the empty plates into the kitchen. Richie followed him.

As soon as Eddie put the plates down in the sink, Richie’s hands were on his waist and his lips on the back of his neck, nose buried in his hair. “Eds,” he breathed.

Eddie hummed and turned in Riche’s arms, grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulling him in for a kiss. It was instantly electric, sending sparks down Richie’s spine and leaving his skin tingling under Eddie’s touch. He parted his lips when he felt Eddie’s tongue swipe across them, snaked his arms further around his body so their chests were pressed flush together. Eddie let out a soft groan that sent shocks of arousal through Richie’s body. He backed Eddie up against the counter, tracing kisses from his mouth across his cheek and down his jawline to his neck.

“God, Rich. That feels good.” Eddie’s hands found their way into Richie’s hair, fingers carding through and encouraging him to nip and suck at the skin on Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s hips jerked forward when Richie found a particularly sensitive spot, pressing his erection into Richie’s stomach. Richie groaned, rolling his hips forward into Eddie’s, shifting the angle so their dicks lined up and even through four layers, he could feel the heat between them, growing as he kept grinding against Eddie.

“Fuck, Eds, you’re so fucking hot.” Richie pulled back to look at Eddie’s flushed cheeks and plump lips. Richie dragged his eyes and then his hands down Eddie’s body, stopping at the waistband of his pants. “Please let me touch you.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed, helping Richie undo his chinos and push them down his hips until he could kick them off. Richie then dropped to his knees, looked up at Eddie for approval, and was met with wide, shocked eyes. “Oh, I-I, um—”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, shit, fuck, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” he started backpedalling immediately, going to stand up, but Eddie’s hand came down on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said, but his chest was rising and falling a little quicker and Richie wanted to take back everything he’d said and done in the past five minutes. “It’s okay. Just… go slow.”

“Are you sure?” Richie asked, receiving a shaky breath and nod in response. He leaned in slowly, maintaining eye contact, to press open-mouthed kisses on Eddie’s upper thigh through his boxer briefs, the side of his cheek brushing against the shape of his cock. Richie’s eyes fluttered closed and he heard Eddie’s breath hitch above him, moving to give the same treatment to his other thigh. Eddie’s hand lightly touched the back of his head, applying the smallest amount of pressure so that Richie got the message and turned to place a kiss right at the base of Eddie’s clothed cock. 

“Oh, god,” Eddie breathed, already sounding far more into it than he’d looked a minute ago. Richie mouthed along Eddie’s cock from the base to the tip, sucking on the head through his underwear until it was soaking and Eddie was moaning, thrusting forward against Richie’s mouth. Sitting back and pressing kisses along Eddie’s stomach, Richie hooked his fingers in the waistband and, quickly glancing up at Eddie for a nod of confirmation, pulled his boxer briefs halfway down his toned thighs.

He moaned at the sight of Eddie’s cock, hard and flushed pink and right in front of his face, taking just a moment to appreciate the view before taking his glasses off and grasping the base with his hand. He stuck his tongue out and licked a broad stripe up the underside, wrapping his lips around the head and then swallowing down as much as he could in one go. 

“Holy fuck, Richie.” He looked up through his lashes to see Eddie watching him, one hand gripping white-knuckled on the kitchen counter and the other shooting out to hold Richie’s shoulder. Eddie let out a drawn out moan when Richie started bobbing his head, dragging the flat of his tongue along the vein with every stroke, hand moving at the base of Eddie’s shaft where his mouth couldn’t reach. “Oh god, oh  _ fuck." _

Richie hummed, pulling off for a moment and continuing to jerk Eddie off. “You taste so good, Eds. Sound so fuckin’ sexy, I could probably come just from hearing your voice.”

Eddie moaned again as Richie slid his cock back into his mouth, hand moving from Richie’s shoulder to the top of his head, not guiding his movements but just holding tightly. Richie groaned when Eddie tugged at his hair, his hips jerking forward, searching for some friction.

“God, you’re nearly enjoying this as much as me,” Eddie marvelled, experimenting with a shallow thrust into Richie’s mouth, the head of his dick hitting the back of his throat. Richie took it in his stride, ignoring the burning behind his eyes and trying to focus on the blur that was Eddie’s face, the feeling of his cock, hot and thick and heavy resting on his tongue, poking the back of his throat again.

Richie groaned, hollowed his cheeks and sucked, letting Eddie’s hand fall away from his head to hold himself up against the counter. He kept his tongue firmly pressed against the underside of Eddie’s cock and continued bobbing his head, lips sliding slick up and down Eddie’s length. Richie’s eyes rolled back and his hips stuttered, his own dick aching from the lack of attention. He pressed one hand against himself, forcing his eyes open to look up at Eddie.

“Oh, fuck, Richie, I’m so close, I’m gonna— fuck,  _ fuck." _

Richie doubled his efforts and sucked harder, the sound of spit and moans filling the room and echoing in his ears. He brought his other hand up to Eddie’s thigh, digging his fingernails into the soft skin there and looking up at him through his eyelashes, Eddie’s hair flopping onto his face until his eyes rolled back and he groaned, loudly, hips jerking forward as he came in Richie’s mouth. Eddie‘s chest heaved, bringing himself down as Richie moved off his dick with a  _ pop, _ and swallowed.

“Fucking hell, Eds.” His voice was hoarse and Eddie was biting his lip and Richie had a feeling he was going to shoot off in his nice pants the moment Eddie so much as looked at his dick. He got to his feet and tried to lean in.

“Rinse your mouth before you kiss me, you cretin,” Eddie said, gesturing towards the sink behind him.

When they were kissing again, mouths moving slow and slick together, Richie’s arousal barely dissipated, Eddie’s fingers found their way back to his shirt collar and he spun them around, pushing Richie against the counter where he just was.

“I’m literally gonna come the second you get your hand on my dick,” Richie mumbled against his lips.

Eddie just rolled his eyes. “You’re pathetic,” he said, hands finding Richie’s belt buckle and getting him out of his pants without breaking the kiss. He pushed both his pants and boxers down together, wrapping one hand around Richie’s cock, and then stopped abruptly and stepped back.

Richie swallowed. “Wh—?”

“Oh my god,  _ Richie." _ Eddie looked down at Richie’s dick in his hand and,  _ oh, _ right. “You’ve been telling the truth all this time?”

Richie’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Yeah, I suppose I kinda have.”

A low growl came deep from Eddie’s throat and he surged forward, crashing their lips together and wiping the smug look right off Richie’s face. Eddie swiped his thumb across Richie’s slit, gathering the pre-come there to ease the glide of his hand over his cock. It wasn’t quite enough, so he separated their mouths and sank to the floor to spit in his hand.

“Jesus, Eddie, you’re gonna kill me.”

Eddie wrapped his hand back around the base of Richie’s shaft and sunk his mouth down halfway, sucking loudly and sloppily. He tried to take more but gagged slightly and had to pull back. Eddie watched his hand sliding over Richie’s cock with some kind of awe, before leaning back in and laving his tongue over the head and all of a sudden Richie was coming with a whine, hips stuttering forward into Eddie’s half-open mouth and painting his tongue with his come.

Watching Eddie maneuver Richie out of the way so he could spit into the sink and wash it down with water was far more endearing than it should have been, and then he hauled him in for a kiss that was so soft and gentle that Richie’s heart nearly burst from being so full. He smiled against Eddie’s mouth and Eddie smiled back.

As he calmed back down, Richie became aware that they were both in their nice shirts and no pants. “Mmm, soft dicks hangin’ out and getting some fresh air. Classic Thursday night activities. Shall we top it off with some comic book reading like the good ol’ days?”

Eddie stepped away from Richie to pull his underwear up, grimacing when he realised it was soaked with Richie’s spit. “I should hope no one’s dick was out while we were reading comic books in the good old days.”

“Yeah, well, you sure would’ve noticed if mine was, wouldn’t ya, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows and shimmied his hips. Eddie snorted.

“I can  _ not _ believe you actually have a… well, it’s not fucking ten inches but  _ still. _ What the fuck do you do with that thing?”

Richie chuckled, finally getting back into his clothes. “Maybe one day soon, I’ll show you,” he said, taking Eddie’s hand and trying to drag him towards their bedroom.

“Nuh uh.” Eddie shook his head. “We’ve got to clean the table. We just left all that shit there and, oh god, the candles are still on  _ fire, _ Richie, what the fuck? Why didn’t you blow them out when you  _ knew _ you were going to follow me and suck my dick and we’d get distracted and what if they fell over and something caught fire and our entire place burned down…”

Richie watched fondly as Eddie fretted over their kitchen table and directed him around to clean everything up. “We sure wouldn’t be getting our bond back if that happened,” he teased.

“Oh, shut up, Richie.”

They ended up settling on the couch, upon realising that it wasn’t even ten o’clock, television playing some shitty reality show that was mostly just white noise, the two of them paying much more attention to the warmth of each others’ skin at every point of contact, Eddie sitting between Richie’s legs with his back against his chest. They’d both changed into comfortable clothes, a thin blanket draped across their legs as per Eddie’s request.

Richie nosed at his hair. “Hey, Eds? What was… I mean, I don’t wanna sound like I’m complaining or anything, I just can’t stop thinking about how you, uh,  _ reacted _ initially when I went to blow you.” Eddie tensed in his arms and Richie looked down at him, concerned. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to bring up anything, y’know, if something happened to make you— Actually, nevermind, forget I asked.”

Eddie was silent for a long moment and Richie was certain he’d overstepped, mentioned something he shouldn’t have, opened his big mouth and ruined the otherwise perfect evening they were having.

“It was, uh, the clown,” Eddie finally said, which was just about the last thing Richie’d been expecting. “I never told anyone, for obvious reasons, but I-It, um… It basically asked me if I’d let It blow me for money. I’ve always been tipsy or drunk when I let guys do that to me, so this was the first time I’ve been fully, completely aware of what I was doing and it… it just popped into my head, out of nowhere.”

Richie’s lips curved down into an angry frown and he was as glad as ever that they’d killed that  _ thing _ once and for all when they were kids.

“I’m so sorry, Eds. You should have stopped me if you were uncomfortable. I asked if you were okay with it ‘cause I could see you looked a little stressed and—”

“No, Richie. I wanted you to. Don’t you get it?” Eddie turned half his body to look at Richie straight-on. “I wasn’t scared or anxious or ashamed, because it wasn’t some filthy leper offering to suck me off for a dime or a random guy in my class who thought I was hot and wanted to get into my pants, it was my  _ boyfriend _ who I am  _ horrendously _ in love with wanting to make me feel good because he loves me back. It’s because it was  _ you, _ Rich.” Richie was honestly about to burst into tears of fondness and happiness. “Yeah, sure, I had a moment of fear when the memory came back to me, but then I looked down into your eyes and… you were just so pretty and  _ desperate _ and I realised just how much I love you. I realised that I hadn’t let that monster control me or what I thought about myself for a whole year, thanks to you, bringing me here to New York. I wasn’t going to let that nightmare stop me now. Not with you. This is too important to me.”

A few tears did slip down Richie’s cheeks. Eddie was rarely this open and vulnerable about his feelings, hardly ever talked so much about what he was thinking, and it warmed Richie’s soul to hear him finally start to talk about these things. He sniffled.

“You’re important to me, too,” he said, but it didn’t feel like enough, not when Eddie had obviously worked so hard to express himself. “You’re everything to me, Eds, and I wish I could go back in time and kick the shit out of that clown for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

Eddie gave him a small, gentle smile. “No, I didn’t, but you don’t need to,” he whispered, stroking Richie’s hair. “I have everything I need right here.”

* * *

Every time Richie plugged his guitar (that Eddie got him) into the amp and pedal (that Eddie got him) with the cables (that he got himself because Eddie forgot that one needed cables to use an electric guitar), Eddie felt a warm mixture of satisfaction, fondness and possibly a bit of arousal, because now apparently he couldn’t even  _ look _ at Richie without getting a little turned on.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at how quickly and naturally their relationship progressed since they had known each other for basically their whole lives, so there wasn’t any need to fumble through the awkward stages of getting to know each other, or even the strange transition from friends to boyfriends because, in all honesty, they had been acting like boyfriends for months, if not years. Now at least, Eddie had the advantage of withholding kisses or sex if he wanted Richie to do something, which usually did not end up in his favour because, despite being stronger, he was still smaller than Richie and there wasn’t much he could do if the guy decided to roll on top of him and pin him to the bed with one of his stupidly long arms and once Richie had his hand down Eddie’s pants with his stupidly long fingers wrapped around his very interested, traitor dick, well, who was he to stop him?

Richie, who had been fucking about on his guitar for the better part of an hour instead of sweeping the kitchen floor like he’d promised  _ yesterday _ and thus forcing Eddie to do it, was  _ smirking _ at him.

“Look at you, Mr Househusband,” Richie teased, plucking softly at the strings. “I’m honestly the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

Eddie glared at him. “You’re lucky I haven’t murdered you.” Richie pouted – that stupid, adorable little pout that Eddie always wanted to kiss right off his face… He supposed now he could do exactly that.

He set the broom against the kitchen counter and took four strides across the room until he was in front of Richie, moved his guitar out of the way and leaned over him to kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth without warning. Richie squeaked, body tensing momentarily, before he melted into Eddie’s touch, arms wrapping around his waist and trying to pull him into his lap.

“Uh uh uh,” Eddie tutted, pulling back to press his index finger against Richie’s lips. “Not unless you come do the dishes, which you  _ also _ promised you’d do yesterday.”

Richie groaned dramatically, but he got up anyway.

On the couch, sitting in the indent Richie’s body had left, was a small notebook. Eddie frowned, wondering when Richie had started actually writing notes in class. He picked it up and flipped it open without thinking, eyes falling on Richie’s messy scrawl on the page in front of him. He could hardly read it, but going by the structure of the paragraphs and the few words he could make out, it definitely wasn’t college related.

“Eds?” Richie’s voice was right behind him and Eddie spun around, snapping the book shut, guilt washing over him immediately. “Shit, Eddie, no, what are you doing? Did you read that?”

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing, really, it—”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing when it’s clearly something. What the fuck is it, Richie? What are you writing about not being able to be saved? O-o-or hating yourself and being broken? I thought we were past all that?”

Richie swallowed and extended his hand. “Please give me the book.” His jaw was set and his expression hard, dark eyes boring into Eddie’s in an unsettling way that almost made him want to give up immediately just so he’d stop looking like  _ that. _ Whatever  _ that _ was.

“No. Tell me what this is.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Eddie shook his head. “Since when do you keep secrets from me?”

Richie’s arm darted out and snatched the book away. “I don’t, it’s just…  _ This. _ ”

“What  _ is _ it?” Eddie asked, exasperated. Richie sucked in a breath and his lip quivered, so Eddie changed tactics, lowering his voice and trying to keep the harshness out of his tone. “Rich, sweetheart, I love you and I just wanna help. Do you want to talk about it?”

Richie pursed his lips, brows threading together. “It’s… It’s my songbook. I’m guessing the one you saw… was one I wrote in Derry, while we were fighting. It was a pretty, uh, dark time for me. But it doesn’t matter anymore. It was years ago.”

Eddie bit his lip, thinking back to a handful of conversations they’d had in the past few months where Richie had made a self-deprecating joke or gotten high and cried endlessly about disappointing his parents and his friends, and he started to wonder if maybe Richie had been lying whenever he said he didn’t think those things of himself anymore.

“Would you play it for me?”

Richie snorted. “Fat chance, Kaspbrak.”

“Please?” Eddie stepped forward and took Richie’s empty hand in both of his. “You’ve never played me anything you’ve written before.”

He wanted to yell at him, threaten to withhold kisses or cut all his guitar strings or organise his sock drawer, but he knew none of that would work. He had to try harder, for Richie’s sake, to be comforting and sensitive in situations like this. Bring his fiery mind down to Richie’s level and just  _ relax, _ knowing Richie obviously had enough going on inside his head already and didn’t need Eddie poking and prodding at him to open up.

“I just…” Eddie began.  _ I love you, I care about you so much, you mean the world to me, I would do anything to make you feel safe, I never want to see you cry again, I love you so much, I want you to feel better, I wish I could make you feel better. _ “I care about you, Richie. If this song means something to you, if it ever meant something to you… I want to know that part of you, too.”

Richie stared at him for a long, long moment. “You won’t like it,” he whispered.

“This is not about me. It’s about you and what you’re feeling. I’m not here to judge you, I just want to take care of you.”

Richie nodded slowly. “Okay.” He sat back down on the couch and placed the notebook on the floor, closed, picking up his guitar that was still plugged in. He fiddled with the settings on the amp and the guitar itself, strumming a much softer, less fuzzy sounding note. Eddie decided to sit at the kitchen table, giving Richie space so he didn’t feel crowded. Richie cleared his throat.

“This song is called Depraved.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped uncomfortably with the  [ first minor note Richie played ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9y8aUi3qFY) .

_ “I laughed the loudest and the most of all. I’d turn around and then my face would fall. A silhouette of long ago. Away from here, wish I could go. Sometimes I wish my brain would uninstall. _

_ “I always pretend that I’m okay. Put on my fake facade and smile, each and every day. The walls go up to hide my heart. You’ve never known this secret part. Sometimes I wish it all would go away.” _

Richie’s eyes were closed and Eddie’s heart stuttered as the lyrics washed over him, tears already pricking at the backs of his eyes. 

_ “My heart is just too dark to care. No one can save what isn’t there. Broken and wrong and so afraid. Cause loving you is so depraved. _

_ “I’d never give myself to you. Too much or little, fake or true. Never enough, what you deserve. Oh, my smile was taken long ago. If you could love me, never let me know.” _

Tears spilled over and ran down Eddie’s cheeks, watching Richie’s brows crease as his eyes screwed up, pouring his soul into his voice. Eddie had come to understand that Richie wasn’t overly fond of himself, but he had no idea the depth of that feeling, and his heart ached listening to Richie sing such hateful words aimed at himself when Eddie knew how deserving he was of love. 

_ “I used to think that I was just broken. I’d love you hard with words unspoken. Myself below and you above. Myself I hate cause you I love. I’d rather disappear than be open. _

_ “I feel so much, I don’t know what to do. Can never express how I adore you. I hide myself so far away. Can never show, I’m so ashamed. I’d die tomorrow but then I’d miss you. _

_ “My heart is just too dark to care. No one can save what isn’t there. Broken and wrong and so afraid. Cause loving you is so depraved. _

_ “I’d never give myself to you. Too much or little, fake or true. Never enough, what you deserve. Oh, my smile was taken long ago. If you could love me, never let me know.” _

Eddie barely managed to choke back a sob. Richie’s eyes had slowly opened and were now fixated on some point behind Eddie’s head, wet and shiny and so expressive, Eddie knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer. Richie’s fingers shifted on the guitar neck, sliding up to play more complex chords, the music building inside Eddie’s chest, feeling like he was going to crash at any moment. 

_ “If I were gone who’d even know. Remains of me are never shown. You’d be okay, you’d be alive. For you, my love, I think I’d die. For you, my love, I’d gladly die. _

_ “My heart is far too dark to care. No one can save what isn’t there. Broken and wrong and so afraid. Loving you is fucking depraved. _

_ “I’d never give myself to you. Too much, too fake and never true. Never enough, what you deserve. Oh, my smile was taken long ago. If you could love me, never let me know. _

_ “Wish I could change, I’ll never let you know. I’d die before I ever let you know.” _

Eddie’s body was shaking by the time Richie put the guitar down. Eddie stood up and crossed the room on unstable legs, sitting on the couch and pulling Richie into his lap, wiping away Richie’s tears as well as his own. Richie let his head fall against Eddie’s body, nose pressing against his collarbones, and he let out a wet, shaky breath. Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Richie,” he choked out, “Richie, honey, baby, I’m so sorry you felt that way. Please, listen to me. You are so loved, so loved, I love you so much.” Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, fingers carding through Richie’s hair. “I love you so much. I love you _ so much. _ You’re not broken, you’re not d-depraved, you’re  _ perfect, _ sweetheart,  _ please. _ ”

He buried his nose in Richie’s hair and breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself just as much as he was trying to comfort Richie. After a few minutes, once Eddie’s breathing had relaxed and both of their eyes had dried out, Eddie snuck a look down and saw Richie staring straight ahead, expression blank.

“Rich?” Eddie whispered. He knew he had to tread lightly on this subject. If he’d learned anything in his course so far, it was that he needed to be empathetic and just  _ listen. _ “You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right? I’m always gonna listen to what you have to say.”

Richie nodded against his chest.

“Really, I promise. If you… Do you still have those kinds of thoughts? About… dying? About wishing everything would go away?”

“Eh.” Richie shrugged. “Haven’t for a while. It was pretty bad a couple of years ago.”

“Please don’t shrug. I… I don’t want to put any more pressure on you but this really isn’t something you should be so flippant about.”

“‘S old news, Eds.”

“It’s not to me. I never knew you were so…”

“Depressed?”

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Is that what this is?”

“It might be. But, Richie, baby, I’m not— I mean, I can’t—”

Eddie took a deep breath. He couldn’t go around diagnosing people with barely a quarter of a qualification. He had no idea what Richie was going through. He didn’t even know Richie felt that way. All he knew was that… he couldn’t fix it.

But then Eddie realised that, although he couldn’t fix Richie or change his feelings towards himself, he didn’t actually want to. Because it wasn’t his job to  _ fix _ him; it was his job to  _ support _ him. Eddie’s lungs filled up with air and he realised all at once that he wasn’t like his mother at all, because he didn’t take it upon himself to attend to Richie’s every waking issue and he definitely didn’t enjoy it. He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to go around fixing or trying to change the people he loved. And he knew that because he  _ actually _ loved Richie, not in the way his mother ‘loved’ him, he needed to get him the proper help he needed.

“Have you ever considered going to therapy?”

Richie sat up in an instant. “I don’t need a fucking shrink to pick through my head.”

“Hey, it’s okay to accept if you need help. In fact, if it would make you feel better, maybe I could, too. I have enough anxiety and mommy issues to warrant it. And god knows we have some repressed PTSD symptoms hiding away in there from our delightful childhood, as well. We could even do it together, if that would make it easier for you. Anything you want. I just think it could help.”

Richie stared at him for a long, long moment, longer than any of the other long stares the two of them shared. For several seconds, Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie was even going to respond.

“I’ll think about it.”

Breath rushed out of Eddie’s chest, relief flooding through him at the thought of Richie finally getting to address these horrible thoughts that plagued his mind for so many years.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Richie’s lips tugged back and forth, before he leaned back into Eddie and mumbled, “I like it when you call me ‘sweetheart’.”

Eddie smiled, warm and fond, wrapping an arm around Richie to hold him close. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Richie insisted on going into the doctor’s office alone (which Eddie was secretly thankful for - he probably would have had a panic attack if he’d gone inside), leaving Eddie with an hour to kill in Bushwick. He ended up at his Walmart, figuring he could use his staff discount to get them some cheap groceries since they were already out and about and he basically had a running checklist of their fridge’s contents in his head at any given time. He walked past the bakery and deli section, deciding to grab a sweet pastry for Richie as a reward for being so good about seeing a doctor. He strolled through the grocery section, mentally checking off items as he picked them up. Spinach, apples, garlic, cheese—

“Eddie?” He spun around to see his boss, Jennifer, standing behind him. “I didn’t have you on for today?”

Eddie chuckled. “No, I’m not here for a shift, just shopping. Got to stock up the pantry.”

“Ah, gotcha. I made a very conscious effort to give you two days off per week. You work too freakin’ hard, Eddie.”

“Oh, please. You know I need the money.”

Jennifer popped her hip and raised an eyebrow and he knew what was coming before she even said it. “Maybe you shouldn’t have bought your roommate all those expensive presents then, should ya?”

Eddie could feel his cheeks flush. “He’s, uh— We’re actually dating now.”

“Oh, fucking finally.” Jen grinned, only making Eddie blush harder. “You talk about him  _ a lot." _

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well,” he responded lamely.

“I’m happy for you,” she continued, grin softening slightly. “You look like you could use a good lay.”

“We are so not talking about my sex life right now.”

“Condoms and lube are in aisle six. You take the extra tight ones?”

“Fuck off, Jen. Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

He did swing part aisle six, just in case.

When Richie finally exited the clinic and found Eddie waiting by their car, he had a prescription in his hand. Eddie’s stomach jolted uncomfortably at the sight of it, far too many bad memories rushing back into his head. 

“Uh, what’s that for?”

“‘Tis Prozac, my love.”

“Do you really need to take that? Surely they need more than one session to know if you should be on meds or not.”

Richie shrugged. “I dunno. Doc said I could still be ‘high risk’. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Eddie swallowed. “Okay. That’s okay. I’ll just— it’s fine.”

“Hey, hey, Eds, you don’t have to come with me or anything if it makes you uncomfortable. Especially not to the pharmacy.”

“No, I want to. I want to support you. That’s more important to me than my stupid memories of my stupid mom and her stupid fucking placebos.”

Richie took his hand. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I am. I love you. Also, here.” He handed Richie the pastry. “Since you were so good about doing this. Now hop in. I’ve got cheese in the back and you  _ know _ how I feel about keeping dairy in the car for too long.”

The car ride home was long enough for Eddie’s beating heart to take it down a notch. He kept his head facing straight ahead, focusing his attention on the road and Richie’s mindless tapping against his thigh along with the soft music playing through the car speakers. Richie insisted on popping into the pharmacy by himself, so Eddie rolled down the window and rested his elbow on it, looking out and watching the wind blow leaves around the parking lot. It calmed him, even as Richie slipped back into the car with a bottle of pills in his hand, Eddie reached across the console and cupped his cheek, thumb stroking gently across his cheekbone. Richie’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, reminding Eddie of the items he’d picked up from aisle six at Walmart. He leaned over to press a kiss to Richie’s lips, soft and sweet, sighing happily as he pulled back and drove them the rest of the way home.

Still, Eddie decided to shower when they got home, because he’d still stepped inside the doctor’s clinic and that was nearly enough for him to feel his skin crawling. He left Richie to put the shopping away and took extra time scrubbing himself clean, letting the warm water wash over him until his insides had completely settled and he felt like himself again. He changed into a pair of soft blue shorts and Richie’s Ghostbusters t-shirt and when he wandered out into the living area with his towel draped across his shoulders, he found Richie leaning against the kitchen bench with the two boxes of condoms in his hands.

“Ribbed for her pleasure, eh? I know my eyesight is something shocking but, Eds, even I can read that these are two completely different sizes.” He shook one hand side to side, the wrappers inside rattling against the cardboard box. “These standard ones are no match for Nine and a Half Inch Tozier. See, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Instantly, Eddie’s entire body felt like it was on fire as he watched Richie’s eyes dart down to his thighs, soft and clean and exposed with his choice of shorts. It was looking like he’d have to take another shower today.

“Just shut up and get over here,” he snapped. 

Richie was across the room in an instant, backing Eddie against the doorframe he’d just come through and ducking down to press their lips together with heated promises of what was coming. (Hopefully both of them, if Eddie had any say in it.) Eddie groaned when Richie’s large hands gripped his waist, arching his back so their bodies were connected everywhere that was possible. He threaded his fingers through Richie’s hair and tugged once, twice, partially to hear Richie whimper and partially so he could pull back to mumble, “Bedroom,” against his lips.

Eddie ended up on his back and Richie kept his glasses on even though they kept sliding down his nose as he kissed and licked and sucked his way down Eddie’s neck and along his collarbones. He found that sensitive spot near his ear and sucked hard, teeth nipping at the skin until Eddie’s hips jerked up into his, pressing his dick into Richie’s sharp hip bone.

“Rich,” Eddie breathed, “I wanna— oh,  _ shit." _

“Yes,” Richie murmured against Eddie’s neck. “Whatever you want, Eds.”

“Fuck. I want your dick in my mouth.”

Richie groaned, hips stuttered forward. Eddie dragged his hands down Richie’s back to grip his ass, pushing him down to roll their hips together again.

“Jesus, Eddie, you’re fucking  _ sinful." _

Richie rolled them over so Eddie was hovering above him, one thigh between Richie’s, and dropped his head back against the pillows. Eddie attached his teeth and lips to Richie’s neck, leaving red angry marks as he moved down, hands gripping bruisingly tight on Richie’s hips. He tugged at the hem of Richie’s shirt until he sat up and pulled it off, immediately swooping down and sealing his mouth over Richie’s nipple.

“Fuck, oh, fuck  _ yes. _ Eds,  _ Eds," _ Richie babbled as Eddie flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud, bringing his hand up to rub his fingers across the other. Another high, whiny sound was pulled from Richie’s throat, spurring Eddie on to drag his teeth across his chest from one nipple to the other. “You look so pretty, Eds, fucking hell.”

Eddie hummed against Richie’s skin, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down his stomach to the trail of hair that disappeared into his stupid fried egg boxers. Eddie found it way too endearing and they needed to be gone  _ now. _

“Get these off.”

Richie complied immediately, sitting up to strip the last of his clothing off while Eddie did the same.

Eddie could nearly count the number of times they had been completely naked together on his hands. There had been many instances of lazy grinding in the morning and rushed handjobs in the shower before one of them had to leave for class or work. There were not enough times where Eddie had Richie spread out and pliant on the bed beneath him, cock heavy and thick and leaking against his stomach, looking so goddamn enticing that Eddie had half a mind to abandon any prospect of actual sex and just suck Richie’s soul out through his dick.

His hands rested on Richie’s inner thighs, spreading them slightly so he could settle between them and sink his teeth into the soft skin there. Richie leaned up on his elbows so he could watch Eddie nip and bite at his thighs, the crease where they met his hips, the prominent bones jutting out there that were practically begging for Eddie to leave marks on. Eddie slipped his left arm under Richie’s leg and pressed his hand into the side of his stomach to hold his hips down as he licked a long stripe from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock. Richie’s back arched, Eddie’s arm keeping him in place so he didn’t choke when he opened his mouth and took as much of Richie’s cock down as he could manage, keeping his tongue pressed flat against the underside. Eddie was determined to get Richie’s whole length in his mouth one of these days and had slowly been building up a tolerance to the feeling of the thick head pressing into the back of his throat.

“Oh my god, Eds, look at you. You look so fucking gorgeous like this. So— _oh, _ so perfect.”

Eddie started bobbing his head, taking more and more in each time, breathing out heavily through his nose. One of Richie’s hands was clutching at the bedsheets, the other scrambling for purchase on Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie pulled back to lick underneath the head and dip his tongue into the slit. His eyes snapped up to look at Richie, wrapped his lips around the entire thick head of his cock and sucked, flicking his tongue against the hot skin and keeping his eyes locked on Richie’s slightly wet, dilated pupils, eyelids heavy with arousal behind his fogged up glasses. Eddie sunk down again and Richie’s head fell back, his pale neck littered with hickeys and teeth marks on full display.

Eddie spat into his hand and wrapped it around Richie’s shaft. “Rich.” He pulled Richie's attention back to him, sitting up on his knees while he continued stroking Richie’s cock, leaning forward over his body and resting his weight on his other hand. Richie’s hips thrusted up into his hand a few times, leaning up on his elbows again so he could meet him for a deep, sloppy kiss. “I want to fuck you so bad,” Eddie said.

Richie’s body tensed and his eyes widened.  _ "You _ want to fuck  _ me?" _

Eddie let go of him and wiped his hand on the sheets, figuring this was a conversation they should have properly. “I want us to fuck,” he amended. “Whatever way that entails, I don’t care, I just wanna touch you everywhere and make you feel good.”

Richie sat up properly as well, scooting back so they were face to face. “I-I’m— I’ve only slept with one guy and I topped. What do you...?”

“I’ve done both. Honestly, Rich, I don’t mind, that’s why I got both condoms. If you wanna top then by all means.” Eddie gestured down at his body, then eyed off Richie’s dick for a moment. “Prep might take a bit.”

Richie chuckled, but his brows were still creased and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Eddie frowned slightly. “We don’t have t—”

“No, no, Jesus Christ, Eds. I’ve been dying to have sex with you for, like, four years. I’ve just literally never dared to put anything even remotely close to my asshole before.”

“Never? You’re really missing out, babe.”

This time when Richie smiled, Eddie felt warm and fuzzy all over. “I definitely,  _ definitely _ want to fuck you, Eddie.”

“Well, that’s convenient, ‘cause I definitely want you to fuck me.” A soft noise slipped out of Richie’s mouth and Eddie leaned forward to capture it with his own, his hands finding Richie’s hips and gripping tightly. “Now come on, I need your fingers in me  _ yesterday." _

“Fuck, okay. Lie down for me?”

Richie settled between Eddie’s legs, grabbed the lube and the box of larger condoms from where they’d been tossed on the nightstand. He bent down to kiss and lick along Eddie’s cock to bring him back to full hardness, popping the bottle cap and squeezing some lube onto his fingers.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?” Richie said. Eddie nodded, and then Richie was sitting back and pushing Eddie’s legs apart with his dry hand, lips parting slightly as he pressed the tip of his index finger against Eddie’s hole. Eddie watched Richie for a moment, how his large eyes widened with awe and he kept his glasses on so he could just  _ look, _ until Eddie couldn’t stand the intense gaze anymore and let his eyes slip shut as Richie’s finger kept moving around his rim, not pressing in just yet.

“C’mon, Rich, no need to be  _ that _ slow. I’m not gonna break if you stick a finger in me.”

“Bossy,” Richie teased, but he pressed forward and the tip of his finger slipped inside Eddie’s body. “Jesus, Eds. You’re so hot.” He twisted his wrist and pushed in further, up to the second knuckle, and Eddie was acutely aware of just how long Richie’s fingers were.

“Mmm, that feels good,” Eddie breathed, spreading his legs wider. “More.”

Richie complied, adding more lube and sliding his finger in and out until Eddie’s body was no longer resisting the intrusion. He pressed his middle finger alongside it and pushed back in with two. Eddie planted his feet on the bed either side of where Richie was kneeling, hips starting to move on their own, rocking down onto Richie’s fingers.

“Fuck, Eds, I’m not even gonna get inside you at this rate. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous and desperate you look right now, fucking yourself on my fingers. You’re  _ so _ hot, I love you  _ so much." _

Eddie’s eyes flew open and found Richie’s. “C’mere. Kiss me.” Richie shifted and leaned over him, sticking his tongue out before their lips even touched and licking inside Eddie’s mouth like he was starving for it. Eddie moaned, sitting up on his elbows, when Richie suddenly crooked his fingers inside him and Eddie’s body jerked forwards, cock twitching against his stomach. “Oh god,  _ yes, _ there,  _ there." _

Richie began to scissor his fingers apart, crooking them against Eddie’s prostate with every few strokes until Eddie was whimpering and he could feel his cock leaking  _ everywhere. _

“Another finger,” he told Richie.

“Are you always this demanding in bed?”

Eddie shot him a look but its effect was ruined when his eyes rolled back with a high moan. “Yes, I am. Give me another finger.”

He heard Richie pop the lube cap again, his fingers withdrawing completely and leaving him feeling achingly empty for a few moments, until three fingers were being pressed against his entrance and pushing back in.

Eddie’s mouth dropped open around a long, deep groan. “Yes, yes, like that, Richie, yes. Feels so good, sweetheart.” Richie’s mouth was then pressing against his, lips still parted and tongue licking inside like he was trying to memorise the bumps and grooves of Eddie’s mouth. “Love you,” Eddie mumbled against his lips.

“Love you, too, Eds. Love you so fucking much.”

Eddie reached down to grab Richie’s wrist, stilling his movements. “It’s good, I’m ready.”

Richie nodded. “How do you want me?”

Eddie grabbed a pillow and scooted down the bed, placing it under his hips and maneuvering Richie back between his legs. “Just like this. I wanna kiss you and see your dumb face.”

“I’m about to fuck you into next week and you insult my face. How incredibly rude of you, Spaghetti. I’m startin’ to think you don’t deserve my dick in you.”

Eddie groaned. “I will literally  _ die _ if you don’t fuck me right now.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’m nothing without my Spagheds.” Richie pulled a condom from the box and flung the rest to the floor, tearing the packet open and flicking the wrapper away as well.

“Stop trashing our place.”

“But, Eds, ‘Trash’ is literally part of my name.”

“Stop  _ talking _ and get over here already,” Eddie whined, trying and failing to stifle his smile.

“Yes, sir. Ooh, that sounds kinda hot, don’t you think?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Eddie felt his ears burn. “Just shut up and put your dick in me already.” He sat up to kiss Richie again, shoving his tongue into his mouth and drawing a moan from deep within his chest. “Fuck me, Richie, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, okay,” Richie breathed, sitting back to roll on the condom and coat himself in lube. “Lie back down, babe.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Eddie said, but listened anyway. He squirmed his hips and spread his legs some more, positioning himself and reaching out to hold Richie’s forearm. Richie grasped the base of his cock and lined the head up with Eddie’s hole, glancing up at him for a nod and a breathy, “yeah,” before pressing forward into him.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie,” Richie started rambling. “You’re so hot and tight and—  _ shit, _ this is not gonna last very long, oh my god. I—  _ fuuuck— _ I love you so much.”

Eddie let his head fall back against the pillows, revelling in every inch of Richie he could feel, the delicious stretch with a slight burn from having such a thick cock inside him, pressing against his walls. Eddie let out a whimper as Richie drew back out and pushed in again, taking more of him, going deeper with each gentle thrust.

“Okay,” Richie said once he was fully seated inside Eddie, voice deep and shaky and  _ fuck, _ Eddie wanted to ravish him. “Are you good?”

He nodded. “So good. You can move.”

Richie gripped his hips and pulled back again, sliding slowly out of Eddie, and this time he pressed forward faster, thrusting back inside and setting up a gentle pace, hip bones smacking against the backs of Eddie’s thighs.

The slide of Richie’s cock inside him was electric, sending waves of intense, heated pleasure through Eddie’s body, along his spine and into his chest where his heart was pounding against his ribcage. He dug his heels into the small of Richie’s back, hands running up his arms to cup his face and pull him down to kiss him. Richie moaned into his mouth, keeping one hand steady on his hip, the other holding himself up as he picked up the pace and force of his thrusts, fucking harder into Eddie and letting noise after noise fall out of his mouth.

“Keep going, feels so good, Rich— _ oh." _

“Eds,  _ Eds." _ Richie’s voice sounded wet and Eddie’s eyes flew open, meeting his blown pupils and furrowed brow, kiss-red lips hanging open and blabbering Eddie’s name over and over again, like there wasn’t any other thought on his mind.

“Richie,” Eddie whimpered, “God, I love you.” Richie’s face dropped into his neck and breathed hot air there, sucking on his skin. Eddie clutched at his shoulders and met him thrust for thrust. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please.”

“I assure you, I have no intention of ever stopping, Eds,” Richie breathed against his ear. “I would fuck you forever if you wanted.”

“I don’t think you’d last that lo— _oh_ —ng.” Eddie threaded his fingers through Richie’s hair.

Richie laughed, which morphed into a groan when Eddie tugged on his hair, dragging him up for a kiss that was mostly just breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Come on, Richie. Harder.”

“Jesus, you’re so fucking bossy.”

Eddie growled low in his throat and gave Richie’s hair a hard yank, forcing his eyes open and drawing a whine from deep within his chest and  _ god, _ Eddie wanted to  _ wreck _ him when he sounded like that.

“Fucking  _ fuck me." _

Richie gripped Eddie’s hips and hoisted him higher up on the tops of his thighs, changing the angle so the head of his dick rubbed against his prostate, and Eddie threw his head back, a loud moan ripping from his throat. Eddie’s cock slapped against his stomach and Richie wrapped his hand around it.

“Yes,  _ yes, _ Richie, just like that. Feels so good,” Eddie babbled. “God, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Fuck, Eds, I love you so much, wanna see you come so bad,” Richie panted, stroking and thrusting in rhythm, the sound of slick skin slapping together mixed with Eddie’s moans and Richie’s prattling until Eddie’s toes curled and he rocked down onto Richie’s cock once, twice, and was coming with a whine all over his stomach and Richie’s fist. “Fuck,  _ Eddie." _ Richie’s hips stilled, pressed flush with Eddie’s ass as he came inside him immediately after, face dropped into his neck.

Eddie’s chest heaved under Richie’s weight, so he wriggled slightly until he got the message and rolled off him to tie off the condom. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open after a minute and found Richie staring at him, eyes crinkled at the corners and mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’ve definitely died and gone to heaven,” Richie said. “Or at least had my entire soul fucked out of me. Either way, I think it’s safe to say that that was a very religious experience and that I officially believe in God again.”

Eddie snorted. “I feel gross.”

“You look amazing.” Richie trailed his hand down Eddie’s red, flushed chest, swirling his index finger in Eddie’s come. “Creamy, white proof of Eddie Spaghetti’s wild time with Ten Inch Tozier.” Richie lifted his hand and sucked his finger into his mouth and Eddie should  _ not _ have found that as hot as he did. His lips parted and he exhaled a shaky breath, watching Richie’s eyes flutter closed as he hummed around his finger.

Richie tried to lean in but Eddie drew the line at kissing. “Nope, don’t you dare. We’re having a shower. Well, I’m having another shower and you’re joining me this time.”

“Round two already? Gotta see your mom later and I don’t know if my dick can handle so much Kaspbrak attention.”

“Your dick better get used to it,” Eddie said, ignoring the joke and rolling off the bed, careful not to let his mess drip on the sheets. He extended his hand to Richie. “Coming?”

“Can I eat you out in the shower?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m a little  _ sore, _ you dick. But if you wash my hair, I’ll suck you off.”

Richie grinned and took his hand. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY they're fucking each others' brains out am I right? :P
> 
> Richie’s song was heavily inspired by Snuff by Slipknot (the link in the fic), Savior by Rise Against, and Adam’s Song by Blink 182.


	18. Strange dichotomy of chaos and control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1995 - February 1996. Richie and Eddie come to terms with some things about themselves and their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> Firstly, I'm pretty sure I just said last chapter how excited I was to reach 3000 hits and all of a sudden I'm doing the same thing for 4500????? Guys <3 I'm so fucking thankful for every single comment and kudos and message I've received because of this fic. I can't say it enough <3
> 
> ANYWAY. The important part: This chapter contains a lot of sex and sex-related discussion. My working summary was “sex dynamic discovery” if that tells you anything lol. BUT there are some important plot points weaved through as well so pls don’t skip the whole thing.
> 
> I was worried that some of the smut might be a bit polarising and in a big story like this I figured having super kinky stuff wouldn’t be the best idea so I tried to keep it pretty light, but feel free to skim/skip it anyway if it makes you uncomfortable or it's not your thing (although I think I’ve been dropping enough hints throughout the story that y’all should already know what’s coming, or if you've read any of my pwps then you know what I like to write).
> 
> I was considering adding sex tags but instead I’ll just say it here (so if you don’t want spoilers then ignore this):  
> We’ve got rimming, we’ve got more dick sucking (seriously, so much dick sucking in this fic) and more anal sex, now with some light dom/sub but like just the ~dynamic~, nothing crazy, also some praise kink, a lil comeplay and a heck ton of hair pulling kink and happy sex crying yes this is completely self indulgent okay enjoy <3

“Hey. Hey, Eds. Hey, Spaghetti. Check this out, dude. Eddie, look.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

Richie grinned. “Look at this!” His arms flew into the air, leaving the pencil perfectly balanced on his nose. “And my father said I would never amount to anything.”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath, but he was holding back a smile. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot, though.”

“I’ve definitely drawn the short straw here.”

“So rude to me. I even vacuumed today.”

Eddie shot him a glare across the table. “You had to ask me where the cord was!”

“How was I to know it was  _ in _ the fucking machine? I thought it was like a rice cooker, y’know? Keep the cord safe and sound in a drawer somewhere.”

“This just  _ proves _ to me that you do nothing around here.”

“Okay, but, consider this,” Richie said seriously, pointing his pencil at Eddie. “Can  _ you _ balance a pencil on your nose?” Eddie scoffed. “Didn’t think so. That officially makes me a far superior human to you.”

“Watch what you say, Richie, or I will kick your ass.”

Richie tapped the pencil repeatedly against the sudoku book. “I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t watch what I say. You literally can’t see words.”

A low, frustrated growl rumbled in Eddie’s chest and he stood up suddenly, walking around the table and grabbing Richie by the shirt, yanking him to his feet. Despite being half a foot taller, Richie felt unbelievably small whenever Eddie looked at him like that, but in the best way. The way that made his heart jolt and his body simultaneously feel like it was made of jello and also entirely on fire. Any retort he was coming up with died in his throat when Eddie pulled him down for a messy kiss and subsequently dragged them both into the bedroom.

Richie was certain that Eddie was actively trying to kill him. He was surprised Eddie wasn’t constantly sore from how much sex they’d been having, and from there, his mind flashed back to their first time when Eddie said he wanted to fuck Richie. It was something he’d been thinking about long before Eddie brought it up, but had never felt much desire to actually follow through with those thoughts until very recently. Being with Anton was completely different because he’d only ever wanted Richie to fuck him, and Richie was used to doing the fucking - Richie  _ loved _ doing the fucking. He’d loved watching Sandy’s eyes roll back and her thighs tremble, hearing Anton moan his name and having Emily’s nails scratch down his back and her fingers tug at his hair - that last one he really should have expected Eddie to catch onto as soon as they’d started having sex, but he didn’t expect him to use it for his own gain so frequently.

Having sex with Eddie still sometimes did not feel real, still sometimes felt like an elaborate wet dream that he’d snap out of any second. But being able to touch and love Eddie was like nothing Richie could have ever dreamed. Feeling the soft skin of his inner thighs, the muscle hidden in his torso, running his tongue along the inside of his mouth and biting into the curve of his shoulder. Having Eddie’s hands and lips and tongue and  _ teeth _ all over him in return - it was almost embarrassing how quickly Richie would get turned on when Eddie’s hands roamed across his chest, fingers catching on his nipples, teeth sinking into the skin of his neck, leaving bruises and red marks there for days. Richie would have been completely content to die at the hands and teeth of Eddie Kaspbrak.

He supposed it only made sense that they’d be fucking each other’s brains out constantly since every other aspect of their new relationship wasn’t really new. He understood now more than ever what people meant when they said the best kind of relationship stemmed from friendship. It was like having a best friend, plus kissing, and now plus sex. In Richie’s humble opinion - the best kind of relationship. 

His current favourite thing to do was eat Eddie out. He was kind of obsessed with it, and Eddie certainly never complained. The first time he asked Eddie if he could do it, he expected him to recoil, repulsed, and call the night off in favour of some very PG-13 cuddling. But Eddie had  _ moaned _ and nodded like crazy and Richie very nearly came in his boxers just watching Eddie’s brows furrow together and his mouth drop open around Richie’s name when he first dipped his tongue inside his body.

Something else that Richie wasn’t really surprised about was the lack of actual discussion about sex, since they were notoriously bad at talking about feelings even though they talked about everything under the sun, even when it came to their life together. Eddie would happily prattle on for hours if Richie so much as mentioned getting a better landline hooked up in their apartment, yet they hadn’t talked much about the new, intimate aspect of their relationship outside of Richie’s shitty jokes and heat of the moment experiments. That was how Eddie discovered Richie’s thing for having his hair pulled - who knew what kind of amazing new things they could incorporate into the bedroom if they actually fucking talked about it.

But Richie knew, after knowing Eddie for so many years, that talking about their feelings was definitely not their strong point. It had cost him an arm and a leg or at least his sanity to get Eddie to open up about anything, unless it was his opinion on Richie’s unfair roommate behaviour or if he had something to say about Richie’s latest performance or stand-up set or thrift store find. Nothing of real substance. Nothing that came from the heart. The only thing Eddie had managed to talk about with Richie in the past few months was how devastated he’d felt about Bill’s initial reaction to him coming out and the brief conversation they’d had about that wretched alien clown - things Richie was more than happy to  _ not _ talk about.

He wanted to tell Eddie that it was okay for him to be vulnerable - god fucking knew Richie had been so on numerous occasions - and that he was able to talk to him about his anxieties or germ-related things or his mom or his struggles with college. Richie wanted to hear them all. He wanted to support Eddie just as much as Eddie had supported him when he agreed to let a doctor pick through his brain and tell him he had self-esteem issues, which— thanks, he already knew that.

Richie wanted Eddie to be okay, and more than that, he wanted him to be happy.

He decided to write down a list of things they could do together as a couple and shared it with Eddie. Things they probably would have done anyway as friends, but now with the added benefit of kissing whenever they wanted, even in the middle of a sentence. He wasn’t sure if it would help, but he felt like they needed to get out of the house more, go on actual dates, remind Eddie that things were a little different between them now and Richie’s job as his boyfriend, not just best friend, entailed more responsibilities and more privileges - namely, listening to his problems and sucking his dick, respectively. 

When Eddie read Richie’s short, initial list, Richie could see the vein in his forehead attempting to calm itself. He was probably reading the part about getting tattoos.

“Are you freaking kidding me?  _ Tattoos? _ Have you even been inside a tattoo parlour? Those places are  _ crawling _ with bacteria and they have dirty needles and other people’s blood and who even knows how often they change their gloves and sanitise their stations and…” Eddie’s rambling filtered out of Richie’s thoughts as he rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on the library table where they were sitting at NYU. “Are you even listening to me, Richie?”

“Oh, sure am, Eds. Needles are bad and tattoo artists need to change gloves.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. “Yes, exactly. I know I said one time that I wanted to get tattoos but that was more like a ‘maybe in five years’ type of situation, not  _ now. _ ”

Richie shrugged. “I’d get one. A sweet tatt on my bicep of your mom in lace pa—”

“Shut  _ up, _ Richie,” Eddie snapped, and shit, now Richie was  _ this _ close to popping a boner in public.  _ Better think about Eddie’s mom some more. _

“Aw, you jealous, Spaghetti? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I tape my mouth down so you won’t be able to hear me calling her name.  _ Oh, Mrs K, yes, ride my huge cock just like that. _ I bet her tits would bounce real good.”

Eddie gagged. “You’re on your last warning, Tozier. Don’t make me actually put tape over your mouth.”

“Careful, Eds, I—“

“You might be into that? You say that a lot.” Eddie watched him carefully. “I kind of want to figure out which times you’re telling the truth.”

Then, Eddie stood up, collected his books and shoved them in his bag, hiking it over his shoulder and turning around, not even sparing Richie another glance as he stalked off towards the bathrooms. Richie followed. Eddie had him pinned against the stall door within seconds and was down on his knees, tugging Richie’s pants down his thighs and swinging them around for Richie to sit on the toilet seat on top of his jacket as Eddie’s mouth sunk down Richie’s dick. Eddie’s fingers found their way to Richie’s mouth to keep him quiet and Richie did not realise how much he would enjoy that.

Maybe he’d have to make them a kink list to explore as well. 

Richie had been quite serious when he said he wanted a tattoo, but he couldn’t think of any symbols or words meaningful enough to have inked on his body forever. Except maybe Eddie’s name, but he felt that was pushing it.

One night as they were lying in bed, starting to fall asleep, Eddie turned to him and mumbled, “If I do ever get over my fear of needles, I’d like to get the Loser-Lover thing on my chest or something.”

Richie raised a brow. “Over your heart? Jeez, Edward, you’re such a sap.”

“You say this like you’re not the sappier one of the two of us.”

Richie ran his hand up and down Eddie’s arm. “I’d totally get your name on my forehead.”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Richie could feel the flush rising up his neck where his hand was resting. “You should get ‘idiot’ across your forehead.”

“Or ‘I’m with stupid’ under my bellybutton.”

“Pointing down or pointing to your side at me?” Eddie drawled.

“Umm…” Richie trailed off and Eddie smacked him on the arm. “Yes, yes, okay, pointing down!”

They simply looked at each other for a few minutes, happily lying in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Richie’s fingers brushed against Eddie’s skin, legs tangled together under the covers, until Eddie’s eyes began to flutter closed.

“S’rry,” he mumbled. “‘m pretty tired.”

“Shh, baby, go to sleep.” Richie pulled Eddie closer and buried his face in his hair.

“Don’t tell me what t’do,” Eddie grumbled against Richie’s neck. “An’ don’t call me baby.”

“Oh, I’d never, darlin’. You’ve had a long week, Eds. Sleepy time for this little spaghetti.”

“Shuddup, Richie.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

“Mm. Love you.”

Richie smiled, letting his eyes slip shut as well.

Eddie was panting, head thrown back against the arm of the couch. “Shit, Richie, that feels so good.”

Richie moaned in response, eyes rolling back in his head as he kept up the hard and fast pace of his tongue lapping over Eddie’s hole, other hand stroking Eddie’s cock. The muscles in Eddie’s thighs twitched under Richie’s hand where he was lying on his stomach between them, Eddie’s other leg thrown over the back of the couch. Richie pointed his tongue and pushed it against Eddie’s entrance again, glasses pressing uncomfortably against his face and the crease between Eddie’s thigh and ass, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. The filthy, wet noises coming out of Richie’s mouth from all his efforts were the loudest sounds in the room and it should have been disgusting, but the deep, musky taste of Eddie’s skin and his fingernails digging into Richie’s shoulder were overpowering all other senses and all he could see, hear and feel was  _ Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. _

Richie pulled back and Eddie looked down at him. He could feel his mouth and chin covered in spit, glasses fogged up. “Eds, can I—? Please.”

Eddie ran his fingers through Richie’s hair. “Tell me what you want, Rich.”

Richie panted. “Wanna finger you.”

“God,  _ yes, _ yes you— you can do that.”

Richie put two of his fingers in his mouth and swirled his tongue around, getting them nice and wet. He leaned back in to press kisses along Eddie’s inner thigh. “So wet and pretty,” Richie murmured into Eddie’s skin, rubbing the tip of his index finger around Eddie’s hole, watching with awe as it fluttered and feeling Eddie’s legs tremble beneath his other hand. His finger slid in easily after he’d been licking Eddie open for the better part of half an hour and Eddie let out a soft, whiny breath from above him. Richie crooked his finger and pulled it out again, going back in with two.

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie’s hand tugged at Richie’s hair and Richie moaned, moving his hand faster. He ducked his head down to stick his tongue between his two fingers, the tip pressing inside with them. When he crooked both fingers again and Eddie’s body jolted, he pressed harder, bucking his hand and hitting Eddie’s prostate with his fingertips on every thrust. “Yes, Richie, there,  _ there, _ fuck, so good, so fucking— _ oh. _ ”

Hand finding a steady pace and ignoring the burn in his wrist, Richie lifted his head to take Eddie’s cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sliding all the way down in one swift movement until his nose hit his abdomen. Eddie’s hips bucked up instinctively, searching for more, causing the tip of his cock to hit the back of Richie’s throat. Richie gagged, fingers jolting inside Eddie and causing a high-pitched moan to rip from Eddie’s throat.

“Richie, Richie, I’m close,  _ shit. _ Feels so good, you’re doing so good.”

Richie moaned around Eddie’s cock, pressing his own hips down into the couch in search of some relief, not stopping the brutal pace of his fingers and pushing a third against Eddie’s entrance until it slipped in alongside the other two. Richie looked up and found Eddie watching him, pupils blown wide, forehead slick with sweat. Eddie’s hand was still in Richie’s hair and he gripped tightly, guiding the movement of his head, whispering  _ so good, so good _ over and over. Richie’s heart swelled at the praise and he shut his eyes as they welled up with tears, Eddie’s cock continually hitting the back of his throat, unable to stop his hips grinding down onto the couch. 

“Look at me.”

Richie’s eyes snapped up in an instant. Eddie’s lips were parted, brows pinched together, his hand gripping Richie’s hair harder and harder, bearing his hips down onto Richie’s fingers.

“I’m gonna come,  _ fuck. _ You’re taking it so good, Rich, such a good boy, oh,  _ oh— _ ” Eddie pushed Richie’s head down, the head of his cock sliding into his throat as he came. Richie whined around his cock at his words, his hips grinding down again and then he was shooting off in his pants, nails digging into Eddie’s side, crooking his fingers inside Eddie repeatedly as he rode out his orgasm.

His fingers slipped out of Eddie as his head was pulled up by his hair, forcing his eyes up to meet Eddie’s. “Look at you,” Eddie panted. “You’re fucking  _ wrecked. _ C’mere, let me…”

Richie gave a sheepish, spit-soaked smile, lips red and fucked out and eyes drooping slightly. “No need,” he croaked, throat hoarse.

Eddie frowned for a second, before his eyes widened as it dawned on him. “Did you come from having my dick down your throat?” he breathed in disbelief.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot.  _ You’re _ so hot.” Eddie scrambled to sit up and grabbed Richie’s jaw, pulling him up to crash their lips together, shoving his tongue into Richie’s mouth like they hadn’t both just come a minute ago and Richie hadn’t just swallowed Eddie’s come. “You must be fucking filthy,” Eddie marvelled, hand travelling down from Richie’s face to cup his softening cock through his pants. Richie whimpered. “Let’s clean up, then you go have a shower while I get dinner started. And put on your orange sweater. You look so handsome in bold colours.”

After doing as Eddie asked, Richie set the table, watching his boyfriend pottering around the kitchen with a ladle in one hand and a spoon in the other. He was about to pick up the comic book he’d left abandoned on the coffee table from when Eddie jumped his bones earlier, when his nose picked up the smell of something delicious.

“You makin’ soup, Eds?”

“Mhm. Tomato. Could you butter some bread? This is almost done.”

Richie walked into the kitchen without question, forgetting instantly about his comic book. He wasn’t sure when he’d started letting Eddie boss him around like he owned him, but then again, he couldn’t remember ever  _ not _ wanting to do exactly as Eddie asked of him. Richie remembered a handful of times from over the years, just off the top of his head, when he’d thought to himself that he was never able to say no to Eddie. He wondered if they had always been this way.

Eddie was chattering on about some new animated movie about toys while he served their food, Richie filled up their glasses with water. “Sounds like a kids movie to me,” he said.

Eddie shook his head. “It’s Pixar, but apparently teens and young adults are loving it, too. Even parents who’ve taken their children have said it’s good. We should go see it.”

“Okay, sure.” Richie set the glasses on the table and pulled Eddie’s seat out for him. “I’ll keep an eye out for the commercial then.” Eddie looked at him for a moment as they both started to eat. Richie could feel his eyes on him for a few minutes, boring into the side of his skull. “What is it?”

Eddie licked his lips. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day.”

“Well golly gee, Spaghetti, I sure say a lotta things. To which thing specifically might you be referring?”

“The thing about having the Losers here for Christmas.”

Richie stopped eating, nearly dropping his spoon in the bowl. “Re-Really? You’d be okay with that?”

“I mean, yeah? I really fucking miss them and I… I was kind of hoping we could tell them about us.”

“Us. Like  _ us _ us?”

Eddie licked his lips again. “Yes. About us dating.”

Richie inhaled deeply through his nose. “I… don’t know about that.”

“They’ll realise as soon as they see we have only one bed.”

“We won’t let them in the bedroom then.”

“But why not?”

“Because!” Richie threw his arms out to the side. “Hello? I’m still in the fucking closet?”

Eddie took a deep, oddly calming breath. “I understand, and it’s okay for you to feel afraid, Richie.”

“I’m  _ not _ afraid, I’m—“

“It’s okay for you to be worried about coming out. The Losers are important to you and I know that you don’t want them to treat you any differently.”

Richie’s jaw clenched. “Stop trying to be my therapist, Eddie. You already made me get a real one.”

“And I’m extremely proud of you for doing that. I stand by my statement that it could really help you. And I think this is the next hurdle you need to overcome. You’re out to your friends in New York and they accept you. I’m out to the Losers and they accept me. I really think it’s something you should consider.”

Richie hated that Eddie was making sense. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, mimicking their conversation about therapy.

“That is all I ask.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Can we just eat now? I’m tired and I want to go to bed soon.”

Eddie frowned. “You don’t need my permission to eat and sleep, Rich.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “Sometimes it sure feels like it.”

A long stretch of silence fell over the table, neither of them moving, no metal spoons clanging against porcelain bowls, just loud breathing and the sound of Richie’s heart like thunder in his ears.

“I’m just sayin’,” Richie continued, knee bouncing in the silence, “‘Cause you like to direct me around and make me go to therapy and now I’m hopped up on meds ‘cause of—”

Eddie’s spoon clattered against his bowl and Richie’s eyes snapped up. 

“Eds?”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath, hands balling into fists against the table. “Am I… Am I turning into my mother?”

“What? Eddie, baby, no, what the fuck? Of course not. You’re nothing like her.” All thoughts of being annoyed with Eddie flew out of Richie’s head in an instant and he slipped out of his chair, kneeling on the floor by Eddie’s side. “Hey, listen to me, please? You’re nothing like your mom. She took sick pleasure in making you think you were ill when you weren’t, giving you pills that you didn’t need. This is nothing like that. I’ve got some fuckin’ mental thing and I  _ do _ need pills to help me. And you… Do you want me to be sick?”

“No, of course not. What kind of stupid—”

“Then you’re not your mother. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to take care of someone you love, Eds. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be mad at you for that.”

Eddie nodded minutely. “I was thinking about this a few weeks ago,” he said softly. “I thought I was different. I thought I would never be like her. And I don’t want to be. I don’t want you to hate me. I thought that getting you to go to a psych would be better than me trying to diagnose you like she always did to me because then I’d be supporting you instead of taking it into my own hands.” Eddie huffed, looking down at Richie, his next words coming out slowly like he was considering each syllable carefully. “She did that because she wanted the doctors to tell her I was sick. I’m doing it because I want you to feel better.”

“Exactly.” Richie matched his pitch and tone. “You’d never be like her, Eddie. Your heart is far too big for that.” He reached up and cupped Eddie’s cheek, running his thumb along his cheekbone. “And if it’ll make you happy, I’ll really think about coming out to the Losers at Christmas, okay?”

“I-I shouldn’t make you.” Eddie sniffled. “You don’t have to. I just thought—”

“Shh, hey, Eds. I’ll think about it, I promise. You’re probably right about them anyway. Maybe even Big Bill will have something nice to say.”

Eddie gave him a look. “So not funny, asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, a low blow, got it.”

Eddie blotted the corner of his eyes with his sleeve. “Will you call everyone tomorrow? Let them know the plan?”

“Sure can do, Spagheds. Could we try that thing where I have to keep quiet while you’re going down on me?”

Eddie shot him another look. “What do you think?”

“Yes?”

“You wish. I’d rather give you blue balls than blow you while you’re on the phone.”

“How is that fair?”

“Stop suggesting stupid shit then,” Eddie said, one corner of his mouth twitching.

Richie grinned. “Shall I clear the table while you shower? I promise to not try to join you this time.”

“Fine. But I want you to read that comic book out loud when we’re in bed.”

“Done deal, Spaghetti Man.”

The week leading up to Christmas made Richie feel like they were a middle-aged married couple having their friends over for dinner for the first time all year. Most of that was true, he realised, except he never wanted to be middle-aged because, ew, back problems and even worse eyesight.

Beverly and Ben arrived a day before the others to help them with last-minute planning and setup. After lunch, Beverly was with Richie when Ben asked Eddie to take him down to the underground parking lot to show him their car. She was drying the dishes after Richie washed them, tea towel moving slowly over each plate. He could feel her eyes on him.

“Aw, to what do I owe the pleasure of Miss Scawlett’s gaze?” Richie drawled.

Bev chuckled. “I was just thinking about how wild Secret Santa is going to be this year now that we’re all adults,” she replied.

“Please, nothing will ever beat my gift to Stanley.”

“What, the Christian necklace? That’s hardly wild.”

“It was  _ hilarious, _ thank you very much,” Richie said. “Oh, thanks for assigning me Benjamin this year. He’s the only one I hadn’t gotten yet.”

“I know. I chose very carefully.”

“Who’s got Eddie?”

Beverly mimed zipping her lips shut. “Not a chance I’m telling you. The only reason  _ I _ know was because someone had to call everybody to assign them and no one trusts Stan with secrets anymore after he spilled to me about you guys.”

“Completely unfair, I do say, lassie. Stan would’ve never betrayed me in such a way.”

“Stan is banned from knowing secrets until further notice.” She opened the cupboard and stacked the clean plates. “I was actually thinking about Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“Just before. When I was looking at you.”

“Why does looking at me have anything to do with that Spaghetti Man?” he asked, and Bev lowered her chin, giving him a  _ look. _ “What?”

She pursed her lips, sighing softly. “Nothing.”

Richie just rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I think I’ll do it.”

“What?” Bev perked up.

“Nothing. You’ll see.”

Richie found his fake ID stashed away in the back of their closet and went with Ben to the liquor store to pick up some wine for Eddie, Stan and Beverly, as well as a bottle of bourbon for the rest of them - the normal, sane ones. When they returned, Eddie and Beverly were cooking up a storm in their tiny apartment. 

“Rich!” Eddie called out as soon as the front door was closed. “C’mere, strain this. And Ben, can you please open this fuckin’ jar?”

Their fridge was bursting with food by the time the four of them settled down for the evening, Ben and Bev having booked a motel room a few streets away. Richie slept in Eddie’s arms that night, needing the comfort and warmth and sweet words of encouragement to prepare him for tomorrow.

Stan definitely knew, Beverly probably knew, Ben possibly knew, Mike was an angel and Bill was slowly coming around. Eddie loved him. Richie could do this.

“Guys, guys, guys.”

Richie stood up and raised his glass. He wasn’t sure how many drinks he’d had, but the bottle was only half full and he knew at least Ben was matching him drink for drink so it couldn’t have been enough for him to be drunk. Still, he was tipsy with confidence after he overheard Bill, Mike and Eddie discussing The Crying Game, the three of them openly talking about a transgender character like it was nothing to be shocked about. Richie suspected that Bill had knocked back a few, but he didn’t even care anymore. He was finally starting to understand what Eddie meant when he said he wanted to be himself in front of their friends. Richie wanted to lean into Eddie’s side and kiss him senseless, hold his hand and run his fingers through his hair, without the worry that his friends might think differently of him. He looked around at all their open, smiling faces and he knew they wouldn’t. They were all Losers, after all.

“What is it, Richie?” Ben asked, lowering the volume of discussion around the room.

“Guys! And tits.” Richie snapped his fingers in Beverly’s direction. “I have an announcement to make.”

Mike sat up straight, smirking. “You’re pregnant?”

“You got someone pregnant?” Stan asked.

Richie snorted. “If I got someone pregnant, the kid would’ve already popped out by now, ‘cause that’s how long it’s been since I fucked a girl.”

Eddie nearly choked on his wine, Stan’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his bangs, and Beverly’s lips twitched into a smile.

Richie took a deep breath.

He was not broken. He was not wrong. He was perfect the way he was. All these things Eddie had told him, Stan had told him, his therapist had told him - Richie told them to himself now. And then he wanted to tell the world.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that most of y’all already know this… but I’m really fucking into guys. And girls. And everyone. I’m bi. I love all of you, you’re all  _ so _ hot that even my shitty eyes can tell. And Eddie…” Richie heard Beverly’s breath catch. “Eddie, my love, would you do the honours?”

“You’re kidding,” Stan whispered. Richie grinned, spinning around to look at him and shooting him a wink.

“I wish he was,” Eddie mumbled.

“What?” Bill asked.

“Fine, I’ll do myself the honours.” Richie sat back down next to Eddie and took his hand. “Eds and I are boyfriends.”

Beverly barked out a shocked laugh. “Oh my god, really? Fucking  _ finally. _ You guys are the worst people to play matchmaker with. Watching you pine after each other for literal years was  _ exhausting. _ ”

“Also,” Richie continued, “He can now attest to the frankly astounding size of my dick.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and his face burned pink. He snatched his hand away from Richie’s. “No one wants to hear about your dick, Dick.”

Stan’s lips twitched into a fond smile. “I can’t believe you had the balls, Rich. I told you—”

“Excuse me?” Eddie cut in, turning on Stan. “Richie did absolutely  _ nothing, _ it was all me, Stanley. He would’ve sat around and wallowed in self-pity if I hadn’t said anything.”

“I think you’re right, Richie,” Mike said. “We all know you’ve been in love with Eddie for years.”

“What?! Seriously?”

Even Bill nodded. “This is no sssssurprise to me. I didn’t know Eddie was gay, but I thought y-y-you were. Close enough. I definitely knew you l-li-liked Eddie.”

Richie blanched. “What the fuck?”

Ben chuckled. “You’ve been pulling on his metaphorical pigtails for as long as you’ve known each other, so I’m told.”

Richie looked at Eddie. “Dude, are you hearing this? They all knew.  _ All of them. _ ”

“Ben has a point,” Eddie said with a shrug.

“You kn-kn-know, Eddie…” All six of them turned to look at Bill. “You have t-t-terrible taste in men.”

Stan barked out a laugh and Beverly snickered. 

Richie rolled his eyes. “Fuck you guys. This was supposed to be my moment. Ah, at least now I can do this without worrying.” He ducked down and kissed Eddie square on the mouth, Eddie’s hands instinctively coming up to his shoulders as he kissed him back, and then pushed him away when Ben and Beverly started cooing at them.

“Gross. I don’t want to be seen being in love with an asshole,” Eddie said, but he was holding back a smile.

Richie grinned. “They say you are what you eat.” Eddie gagged and Ben’s entire body flushed pink. “I love you so much, Eds,” Richie said, loud and proud because he could. “And I want everyone to know it.”

“We literally just said everyone already knows it,” Stan muttered.

“Is someone going to come out every time we all get together?” Mike joked, and Richie’s eyes flickered over to Stan, trying to communicate with his eyes.  _ Maybe next time? _

He was certain Stan’s eyes said  _ we’ll see _ back to him. “I think we just need to take a moment to recognise that  _ Richie _ came out to us,” Stan said instead. “And we’re all very proud of you.”

The corner of Richie’s lips twitched and he looked around at his friends, slipping his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. They were all smiling back at him, some disgustingly sweet like Ben, some proud and fond like Stan, even Bill looked happy for them. He could feel all their love radiating off them like it was body heat, hitting him right in the chest and filling his heart up until he nearly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Guys.” Richie’s voice cracked. “You’re gonna make me fuckin’ sob like a baby.”

“Oh, please,” Eddie said. “They don’t even need to do anything for you to start crying. Just— everyone get over here and hug him already.”

Richie closed his eyes and let a wet smile overtake his entire face. He felt six pairs of hands and arms surrounding him, holding him and Eddie, congratulating him, loving him, being there for him. It reminded him of every time Frank Kaspbrak’s anniversary came around, where the Losers would crowd around Eddie and tell him he was loved and okay. It reminded him of the first night they all spent at Linda not-Marsh’s, showing Beverly what real love from a found family felt like. He remembered every single time they’d piled into the clubhouse, long limbs and loud mouths talking over each other, remembered the bittersweet final time they’d all been down there together before graduation, remembered holding Eddie and Bill and seeing all his friends together, comforting each other, and thinking that these were the best people in the world.

“Thanks, Losers,” he whispered, deciding to ignore all the jokes forming in his head. “I love you guys so much.” He rested the side of his head against Eddie’s for a moment, turning to nose gently at his hair, before deciding his friends had seen him crying for long enough. “Alright, back off now, that’s quite enough soul-bearing for one day. Give a guy some space. Anyone need refills?”

Stan cornered Richie on the other side of the room by the kitchen counter a minute later while he was topping up Eddie’s glass of wine.

“Staniel Urine, my best man, how's it hangin’? Probably not much at all after being hacked off at your Bar mitzvah.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, wow, a joke about my dick. Hilarious. I sincerely hope your bits at the comedy club are better than the trash you spout to us.”

Richie chuckled. “Here for a refill?” He took Stan’s half-empty glass and topped it up with wine. Then Eddie came bustling over, scooted in between Richie and Stan and took the bottle out of Richie’s hand.

“You’re taking too long, babe,” Eddie said, filling up his own glass that Richie was holding and taking that away, too. “Stop chattering and come back to sit with me.”

Richie grinned, ducking down to kiss Eddie before he could run away. “Soon, Eds,” Richie mumbled into his mouth. “But kiss me quick, you little gremlin.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole,” Eddie said, but he placed the glass on the table and turned his body to face Richie, melting against him, undoubtedly a little wine drunk by now and starting to let his inhibitions go. He hummed against Richie’s mouth, snaking his arms around his neck, until Stan cleared his throat from where he was standing right next to them. Eddie just flipped him off and slid his tongue into Richie’s mouth.

“Seriously? You guys are somehow even more annoying now that you’re actually together.”

Eddie pulled away and picked up his glass, taking a long sip. “Fuck off, Stanley. Maybe when you fall in love with a giant dork who can’t keep their mouth shut, then you’ll understand why kissing is so fucking fantastic.” With that, he stalked back across the room and plopped onto the couch to continue talking to Mike and Beverly. Richie watched him for a moment, completely aware that his face had softened with a dumb, lovestruck smile and that Stan was now watching him.

“I’m really happy for you, Rich,” Stan said quietly. Richie dragged his eyes away from Eddie to look at Stan. “Really. I’m not surprised that Eddie was the one to make the first move, and I really don’t want to say I told you so, but—”

“But you’re gonna anyway. Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m a pussy, so sue me.”

“No, that’s not it at all. I… I actually understand how you’ve been feeling.”

Richie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been in love with this girl who I met on the first day of college and I thought she was way out of my league, so I sort of just pined after her for a year, and then she asked me out a few months ago. It’s been the best few months of my life.”

Richie’s eyes widened and a bright grin broke out across his face. “Oh my god, dude! That’s so fucking great! What’s her name? When can we meet her?”

Stan smiled - the softest, gentlest smile Richie had ever seen on his face. “Her name is Patty. She’s…  _ wow, _ she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. But when we were just friends, she’d do things like brush my hair back from my face or straighten my collar or lean against me and I just… I’d think of you and Eddie. And you helped me, in some strange way, to gather the courage to ask her out, because I wanted so badly for the two of you to work out and somehow that translated to me being brave, but when I asked to meet with her, she was busy, and I thought that was some kind of sign that I’d gotten it all wrong. And then, of course, two weeks later, she kissed me while we were hanging out and told me she had feelings for me, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Richie reached a hand out to brush against Stan’s arm. “I’m really happy for you, too, Stan. You deserve to be happy. And your face is so fuckin’ adorable when you talk about her. But, if she hurts you, I’ll sick Eddie on her.”

Stan barked out a laugh. “She can get pretty wild herself. I think they’d actually get along quite well. And I… god, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her.”

Richie’s eyes softened. “Bring her next time, yeah? I wanna meet the gal who’s responsible for you losing your mind.”

“Shut up.” Stan smacked him on the arm and picked up his glass. “Come on, let’s go sit. Eddie’s looking daggers at me now.”

Richie just chuckled, patting Stan on the back and returning to their friends, sliding his legs across Eddie’s lap and his arm around the back of the couch, letting Eddie’s head fall back against it. Stan sat down next to Bill and listened into his conversation with Ben about writing, sipping his wine with a smile on his face. Richie’s lips twitched into a smile of his own because,  _ god, _ he loved his friends so fucking much.

* * *

Being able to be open about his stupid, unexplainable affinity for Richie made being around their friends so much easier for Eddie. He got to hold his hand as the seven of them walked around the city, showing his friends their favourite Japanese restaurant and the best place to watch the sunset and where to get good coffee that didn’t require them to sell their souls. Even when all the Losers left after a couple of days, Bill called him and asked him questions and wanted to learn things, Ben tried to give him sappy romantic date ideas, Beverly cooed into the phone about how happy she was for them and Eddie could not have possibly asked for better friends.

This time, when New Year’s Eve rolled around, Eddie kissed Richie under the stars in the city, the nineteen-ninety-six lights flashing above them as he wound his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, carding his fingers through his curls and smiling against his mouth because he was so, so helplessly in love. It was then that Eddie thought, seriously for the first time, that he really could spend the rest of forever doing this with Richie.

Richie wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes when they had sex that night.

Winter break was over far too quickly and Eddie was abruptly reminded that he’d submitted an application for a summer internship. The interview process was to begin in April and, despite still being months away, he began stressing out about it within the first few weeks of class. His stress levels probably weren’t helped by the fact that one of the courses he was taking was cognitive neuroscience and Eddie was notoriously bad at that kind of thing, having barely passed high school biology and chemistry. Give him a research topic and tell him to write an essay and he was good to go, but remembering neuron structures and chemical formulas? Count him out. Of course, Richie offered to help him, but Eddie wanted to get through as much of his work as he could on his own.

Travis was in Eddie’s neuroscience class and it was the first time he’d seen him since they fucked at Lily Dennings’ Christmas party. On the first day of semester, Richie walked him to class, pulling him in for a kiss that made Eddie’s toes curl right outside the door. When he turned and walked into the room, a stupidly fond, lovestruck grin on his face, he locked eyes with Travis, who was sitting halfway across the room with his arm around a girl.

Eddie blinked, trying to recall exactly what had happened the last time he saw Travis and— yep, he definitely remembered the guy bending over the bathroom vanity for Eddie. Huh. Maybe he could introduce him to Richie.

So Eddie walked over.

In the first few weeks of the semester, Eddie was reminded why he’d been attracted to Travis in the first place. The guy was a bit of a flirt, sure, (maybe Eddie had a type) but he was also fun and easy to be around (Eddie definitely had a type). His girlfriend was a little strange, very geeky and said she’d seen Eddie running track a few times before. She told him to officially try out for the university’s team, but Eddie had other things to worry about. Besides, if Richie had been at all serious that one time he said he wanted a dog, Eddie would have no excuse not to exercise every day. Travis and his girlfriend invited Eddie to lunch after class most weeks, and he found himself enjoying the time spent with them much more than he’d expected - seriously, how often did people become friends with a one night stand and  _ not _ have it be awkward?

When Eddie then invited Travis and Katie out for dinner with him and Richie, as well as Alex and Lily, Eddie just looked around the restaurant table at all his new friends and almost couldn’t believe how far he’d come in the past eighteen months. Shit, he was turning twenty-one this year, he’d been dating the love of his life for nearly six months, he was out to all the important people in his life, had an internship interview coming up, lived in a queer-friendly city in his own apartment with his own car. He had… practically everything he’d ever wanted? Except perhaps his mom’s approval. Although, that was something he suspected he’d never get. He wasn’t even sure if he’d want it now, anyway.

“Fuck your mom,” Richie mumbled into Eddie’s hair one night. Eddie had been getting better at it - saying what was on his mind and not feeling the need to cover up his vulnerability with a backhanded compliment at his ever-supportive boyfriend who definitely didn’t deserve Eddie snapping at him all the time. “No, seriously, I’d fuck your mom.”

Eddie groaned. “I’m  _ trying _ to be serious here, Rich. I’ve been thinking about her a bit lately. I don’t know if I should care, but I think I still do. I think I want to see her, maybe.”

“Whyyyy?” Richie whined. “All she does is make you feel shitty. She doesn’t deserve to see you.”

“It’s not about her. It’s about me. Something I want to do for myself.” Eddie absently stroked Richie’s back, trailing his fingers up and down his spine. “I know she probably doesn’t deserve another chance, but I want to give her one anyway.”

“You’re a better man than me.”

“You’re damn right, I am. You suck.”

“Huh? Me? Suck? As you wish, my dear.” Richie tried to squirm out of Eddie’s arms and down his body but instead got a slap on the arm.

“Stop. Still being serious.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe we’ll go back to Derry. But… think about it some more, yeah? I don’t want us going back there and bringing up all these horrible memories just for her to spit in your face.” Richie pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I also don’t want to get charged for murder.”

“You’re  _ not _ killing my mom, Richard.”

“I’d totally kill for you, Eds. I’d die for you.”

“Stoooop,” Eddie groaned. “And no more death talk, please. Or I’m gonna have to have a word with your therapist ‘cause she’s not doing her job.”

“She’s actually fantastic. I’ve been trying this positive self-talk thing lately when I get ready in the morning. I’m supposed to look at myself in the mirror every single day and tell myself three good things I see and I think it’s helping. As it turns out, I’m a fucking catch.”

Eddie nuzzled against his chest. “That makes me so happy to hear.” He was nothing like his mom, Eddie knew. He’d never be like her, not when hearing Richie talk about getting better made his heart swell with fondness and tears prick behind his eyelids where his face was pressed into his pyjama top. But he’d grown up with her, was raised by her, so it only made sense that he’d have some of those residual tendencies to get what he wanted, to be manipulative when he felt he had to be, to want to take care of Richie, whom he loved so dearly. He was aware of this now, and was actively trying to combat it. And now, he wanted to confront her about it, too.

“‘M sleepy,” Richie’s slurred voice cut through Eddie’s train of thought. “We seein’ e’rrybody t’morrow?”

“Yeah, for lunch.” Eddie inhaled deeply, breathing in Richie’s scent. “I love you.” Richie grunted in response, making Eddie’s lips twitch. He heard Richie’s breathing slow, deepen, as he closed his eyes and let sleep pull him under.

“How does it feel being the token straight in the group, Kit Kat?”

“Do you have food nicknames for all of your friends?” Lily asked.

“Sure do!” Richie sat back and pointed at everyone one by one. “You’re Denny’s, ya girl’s Bread, I think you can guess what Travis Reese’s nickname is, new girl’s Kit Kat, and the classic Spaghetti, never to forget. Although, now I’m thinking fruit by the foot, y’know, since you’re so tiny, Eds.”

Richie absolutely deserved the smack he got.

“I think you’re adorable, Eddie,” Alex said.

“Your guys’ height difference is pretty cute,” Katie agreed.

“Yeah, actually.” Travis was frowning. “How the fuck do you top  _ him? _ ”

Eddie’s eyes shot wide open, his ears burning with embarrassment. Richie turned on him.

“Wait, you fucked Travis? Not the other way around?”

He could not believe they were having this conversation in  _ public, _ surrounded by their  _ friends. _

Eddie swallowed. “Yes. I told you I’d done both.”

“Whoa, whoa, you bottom, as well?” Travis gawked.

Eddie exploded. “Oh my fucking god, why is everyone so interested in who’s getting fucked and who’s fucking? What’s so shocking about enjoying both? So fucking what if I sometimes wanna get railed and sometimes want to bend someone over a table? It’s not that big of a deal!”

Richie stared at him, pupils blown and lips parted and Eddie wanted to smack him again. He also wanted to shove his tongue in his mouth.

Someone cleared their throat. “Wow, guys. I think we hit a sore spot,” Katie mumbled.

“Richard.”

“Hm?”

Eddie gave him a pointed look. “We’re leaving.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up. “Did ya hear that, gang? Master Edward says we are vacating the premises. Salutations, all.” He tried to salute but Eddie grabbed his hand and yanked him out of the cafe.

Eddie’s mind was in the gutter the entire way home and he did not remove his hand from Richie’s thigh.

At this point, Eddie had been having sex for over a year. He’d been fucked, he’d done the fucking, he’d sucked dicks and has his dick sucked - mostly by Richie, who was  _ so _ into pleasing Eddie that it sometimes made his head spin just thinking about it - and most recently, he’d had his ass eaten out by the most enthusiastic boyfriend he could ever have asked for.

He’d discovered right from the get-go with Ryan that he liked being in control in the bedroom, likely stemming from his lack of control in every other aspect of his life for so many years. He didn’t like to think about that too often, though, because that led to thinking about his mother and how much she’d wronged him and Eddie was already thinking about her way too much lately and  _ really _ did not need her chubby fingers appearing in his mind when he was thinking about getting dicked down by his boyfriend.

Or dicking down his boyfriend.

God, Eddie wanted to fuck Richie  _ so badly. _ Richie was already so vocal and expressive in bed, Eddie couldn’t even imagine what filth would come out of his mouth, how much of a mess he’d be reduced to if he had something up his ass. He knew Richie wasn’t comfortable with that yet, and maybe he never would be. Still, Eddie could hardly believe how much he wanted to fuck him. He could hardly believe how much he  _ wanted, _ in general, when it came to Richie, how many dirty thoughts crossed his mind every time he saw him. Sure, he’d known for a few years that he wanted to kiss him and have sex with him one day, but now that he got to, it was like a door had been unlocked inside him and he was just so fucking horny  _ all the time. _

He’d spent so many years feeling ashamed for the thoughts that popped into his head when he jerked off in the shower, but ever since coming to New York, Eddie had felt unbelievably free. He’d kept this part of himself - this part that wanted and craved and desired, that loved boys and men so fiercely - hidden and locked away for so long, and now Richie was bringing it out of him. Richie had tapped into that primal desire in Eddie’s chest and was drawing it out with every moan and whimper, every  _ I love you _ breathed into each others’ mouths, every gasp of each others’ name that sent Eddie into a wild state of arousal that could only be satisfied if he took matters into his own hands because he was  _ allowed _ to and he  _ wanted _ to, so he did, and Richie let him take the lead. Eddie loved him for that. Eddie loved touching Richie and making him feel good, showing him how loved he was. He wanted to take him apart, run his tongue over every crevice of his body, nip and lick his sensitive nipples, hold onto his hips and leave marks all over his pale neck. He wanted to suck his cock until his jaw ached and ride him until his thighs gave out. He wanted so much with Richie. He wanted to  _ ruin _ him.

More recently, now that they were becoming familiar with each others’ bodies, finding the best spots to bite to make the other writhe and moan, figuring out how much pressure to use and where to put their tongue when sucking each other off, Eddie felt like he was getting more confident with sex, and specifically getting more confident with what he said to Richie in bed. In the past, Eddie hadn’t been too into dirty talking, mostly because he didn’t think he was very good at it, and had usually ended up babbling and cursing instead. But this was  _ Richie _ he was having sex with now, and he had to keep up with his Trashmouth, after all. 

Eddie had been running purely off instincts when he’d called Richie a good boy that one time, making a spur of the moment decision after watching how eagerly Richie responded to his praise - but he hadn’t expected Richie to  _ come _ from it and he certainly hadn’t expected himself to be so turned on by it. He hadn’t since felt that same surge of courage that made him say it the first time, but he was sure Richie would respond just as positively if Eddie made explicit efforts to say those things as when he’d just let it slip out. He’d been trying to weave in more compliments and praise both during sex and just in their everyday lives, but hadn’t been able to muster the courage to call Richie good so openly.

Having their friends talking about their sex life and who was fucking whom hadn’t really been something Eddie had expected himself to get so fucking horny over, yet his death grip on Richie’s hand as they ran up the stairs to their apartment was rather telling otherwise. As soon as Eddie got his key in the lock, he felt Richie bouncing on his toes behind him. Eddie got them inside and closed the door behind himself, pulling Richie down by his shirt to kiss him fiercely and dragging them back against the door. Richie crowded against him, his body covering his, arms bracketing Eddie’s head against the door as he nipped at his lips, pushing his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie groaned and fisted Richie’s shirt tighter, pulling them flush together and sucking on Richie’s tongue, making Richie’s hips buck forward and press into Eddie’s.

“Fuck, Eds, you’re killing me,” Richie said into his mouth, not wanting to break skin-on-skin contact anywhere.

Eddie hummed, letting go of Richie’s shirt to slide his hands down his torso, then back up to his arms. “I really do love how much bigger than me you are,” Eddie breathed. 

Richie quirked a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” The corners of Eddie’s lips twitched into a smirk. “It makes it that much  _ more _ satisfying to do this.”

He dropped his hands and straightened up against the door. 

“Get on your knees.”

Richie’s eyes widened and he dropped to the floor in an instant, hissing slightly at the sharp shock of the hardwood on his knees.

“Good boy,” Eddie said, voice low, and Richie barely stifled a moan. “You like that, Richie? You like being good for me?” Richie stared at him for a moment, lips parted, and then nodded vehemently. One of Eddie’s hands came up to run through Richie’s hair, the other flying to his own belt buckle. “Show me how good you can be.”

Richie eagerly helped Eddie get his belt off and pants down around his thighs, dragging his boxer briefs down along with them and letting his cock spring free. Richie leaned forward and sucked the head into his mouth immediately, swirling his tongue around the smooth skin before sinking down and taking all of Eddie into his mouth in one fluid motion. Eddie’s head fell back against the door and he let out a moan as he felt the tip of his cock slide down Richie’s throat, the hand in his hair tugging lightly. Richie hummed, swallowing around Eddie’s dick a few times before pulling off with a wet smack. 

“Harder,” Richie groaned, voice hoarse already, and Eddie very nearly came on the spot.

Eddie gave a few harsh tugs to Richie’s hair, watching his eyes roll back and mouth drop open. “God, you sound so wrecked already. Just wait till I get you to fuck me.”

“Eds,” Richie croaked, “Please, I want to fuck you so bad, I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Mmm, I’ll bet you do. But tonight, I just want you to lie there looking all pretty and take what I give you. Think you can do that, Rich?” Richie nodded silently, eyes blown wide behind his glasses. “Good. Bedroom, now.”

Richie scrambled to his feet, leading Eddie to their bedroom. Eddie kicked his pants and underwear the rest of the way off and stripped off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor as he watched Richie eagerly hopping around, trying to get out of his own clothes. Eddie took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to be a little harsh and a little mean to someone he loved so dearly.

Fully naked, Richie sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands and watching Eddie, waiting for him to make the next move. Eddie let his eyes drift up and down Richie’s body, settling on his cock, hard and thick, flushed red and jutting out against his stomach. Eddie licked his lips. He stepped forward to slide into Richie’s lap, knees either side of his thighs, and hissed when their cocks brushed together. Eddie’s cock was still wet with Richie’s saliva but it wasn’t enough, so he put three fingers against Richie’s lips and pushed until he opened his mouth. Richie sucked on his fingers, slipping his tongue in between them until they were slick and Richie’s eyes were rolling back in his head. 

“You really like having something in your mouth don’t you?” Eddie marvelled, withdrawing his fingers and wrapping his wet hand around their cocks as best he could. “My dick, my fingers, you don’t care, you love it regardless.”

Richie groaned and buckled up into Eddie’s hand, nodding. “I love  _ you,” _ he said. “I love your dick and your fingers and everything about you, Eds. Your thighs, your mouth,  _ fuck, _ your ass.” Richie’s hands skimmed up Eddie’s legs to grab two handfuls of his ass, as if making a point. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Eddie hummed and let go of his own cock to just stroke Richie’s, leaning down to capture his bottom lip between his teeth. He pulled back slightly, dragging his lip with him, teeth digging into the soft flesh until Richie stuck his tongue out and tried to get Eddie to kiss him properly. Eddie stopped touching him. “Uh uh uh. What did I say? You’re going to take what I give you.”

Richie whimpered. “Please, Eds, just kiss me, please,  _ please.” _

Eddie could hardly ignore his request when he begged so sweetly. He wasted no time shoving his tongue into Richie’s mouth, leaning forward until Richie fell onto his back, breaking the kiss only to move down and seal his mouth over his nipple.

“Fuu _uuck, _ Eddie.”

“Mmm, soon.” He flicked his tongue over and over until Richie squirmed beneath him, bucking up so their hips pressed together. “Okay, none of that.” He sat up, pressing a hand firmly to Richie’s chest to keep him down. “No touching. This is my show.”

Richie whined. “Eds,  _ please, _ I’m gonna die.”

“You are not going to die, you big baby. So just lie there and be glad you get to watch. If you keep acting up, I’ll take your glasses off.”

Eddie slid off his lap to retrieve the lube, eyeing off the condoms for a moment before deciding against it. He swung his leg back over Richie’s hips, sitting up on his knees, and popped the lube cap.

“Put your hands by your head,” he told Richie. Richie’s arms flew up instantly while Eddie reached behind himself to rub his finger around his rim. “So eager to listen when you want something. Too bad it doesn’t work in everyday life.” Eddie pushed his finger in, down to the second knuckle, twisting and crooking, then back out and in all the way. His jaw dropped open. “Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ, Eds, do you have any idea how hot you look? Please let me. My fingers are longer, they’ll reach so much deeper, please.”

“Stop  _ talking.” _ He slapped his other hand across Richie’s mouth, eyes flying open just in time to see Richie’s cock jump. “Oh? You  _ want _ someone to shut you up? Here, then.” He slipped two fingers back into Richie’s mouth right as he pressed another up against his own hole. “Mmm, feels so good, Rich. I can’t wait till it’s your cock in me. So fucking  _ big.” _

Richie moaned around his fingers, sucking earnestly now; the slurping wet sounds loud in Eddie’s ears should have been a turn-off, but only made him rock down onto his fingers harder. Richie was getting so into it, bobbing his head, lips plump and red wrapped around Eddie’s fingers. Eddie moaned when he hit his own prostate, pushing a third finger against his rim.

“I’m nearly ready for you, Rich,” he said, making Richie whine. “God, you sound so good, so good,  _ fuck, _ oh fuck.” Eddie withdrew his fingers from both his body and Richie’s mouth, wiping his hands on the sheet. “You did so well, sweetheart. Scoot up the bed for me.”

Richie lay with his head on the pillows, long limbs stretched out across the bed. Eddie settled back into his lap, reaching behind himself to squeeze some lube onto Richie’s dick. He saw Richie swallow.

“No condom?” Richie asked, voice almost a whimper. “Won’t that be too messy for you?”

Freshly non-virgin Eddie from one year ago would have found it too messy, but the Eddie that sat on Richie’s lap now had been buried, locked, hidden away until recently. This Eddie  _ wanted _ more than he knew how to express,  _ loved _ so much his heart ached,  _ craved _ this strange dichotomy of chaos and control that Richie allowed him. And maybe he was blinded by arousal, maybe his subconscious linked his childhood fears of germs and of sex and somehow it got muddled up in his brain and made him want to feel Richie’s come dripping out of his body. Maybe the lack of control he’d had his whole life was manifesting itself in weird and wonderful ways, maybe he  _ should _ have found it too messy - everything else in his life would dictate so - but the way Richie was looking up at him, so openly, eyes so full of love, placing his trust in Eddie’s hands and letting him take the reigns, well, maybe this Eddie, the Eddie that Richie had pulled out from deep within his chest, wanted as much mess as he could get his hands on.

So he shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I wanna feel all of you. Is that okay?”

“So okay, holy shit, Eds.”

Eddie leaned down to kiss him again, much softer and sweeter than this situation would normally dictate, moving his lips and tongue along with Richie’s for a few seconds, relishing the taste of him.

“Remember, sweetheart: no touching and definitely no coming until I say so.” Richie nodded immediately, hands clenching and unclenching where they were still resting by his head. “Good boy,” Eddie said, watching with wonder at how Richie’s eyes sparkled at the praise. Eddie reached back again to grasp Richie’s cock, lifting up onto his knees to line up the head with his hole, and sunk down slowly.

“I love you,” Richie said once Eddie was fully seated on his cock, continuously babbling, “I love you so much, I can’t believe it sometimes. You’re so good to me, Eds, so fucking perfect, oh my god.”

Eddie leaned forward and placed his hands on top of Richie’s, threading their fingers together, and lifted his hips, pulling off and then sliding back down slowly. He let his eyes slip shut and began moving faster, dropping down into Richie’s lap over and over again, listening to Richie run his mouth until Eddie ducked down and attached his teeth to his neck. Richie whimpered, squeezing Eddie’s hands. Eddie rocked his hips back and forth in tiny little motions, the head of Richie’s dick rubbing against his prostate as he sucked a mark into Richie’s skin. He sat back up to admire his work, mouth dropping open around an elongated moan at the new angle, and slapped his hands onto Richie’s chest for balance.

“You feel so fucking good, Richie. Look so— _ oh, _ so gorgeous. God, I wish you could see yourself right now. I love you so much.”

His fingernails were digging into Richie’s chest, leaving red crescent marks that contrasted with his pale skin. Eddie thought they looked beautiful. One of his hands inched forward, now dangerously close to the base of Richie’s throat, and then he felt Richie’s hands skirting along the side of his thigh.

“What did I say?” Eddie grabbed both of Richie’s wrists and pinned them back down by his head. “This is my show. Think you can be good for long enough? If you can resist touching me until I say you can, I’ll let you come inside me.” Richie groaned and his eyes rolled back, hands going slack under Eddie’s grip. Eddie smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“Eds,” Richie whimpered. “I’ll be so good, just  _ please _ let me touch you.”

“Not yet.” He picked up the pace of his hips again, letting go of Richie’s wrists and trusting him to listen. Eddie’s head fell back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth going slack as he moaned, high and loud. “Fuck, oh fuck.”

_ “Eddie.” _ Richie’s voice sounded tight and wet. “I can’t—  _ please,  _ Eds, I’m gonna—”

“Touch me,” Eddie cut him off. “Fuck me.”

Richie’s hands were on his hips in an instant, pulling him down into his lap and thrusting up to meet him. A loud moan was punched out of Eddie’s chest and he wrapped a hand around himself, flying up and down his cock.

“God, I’m so close, Rich.”

“Eds, I’m— _ fuck, _ I’m gonna come.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped open. “You gonna come for me? Come on, Richie, be my good boy and come for me.”

Richie whined high in his throat, slamming his hips up into Eddie once, twice more and grinding against him, spilling inside with his mouth dropped open. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears spilled down his cheeks and for some reason  _ that _ was what pushed Eddie over the edge and he came in thick, hot spurts over his hand and Richie’s stomach, watching with awe as some of it landed all the way up Richie’s chest, getting caught in the small patch of hair there.

Eddie’s other hand was moving before he had a chance to think about it, fingers scooping up his own come and pressing them back into Richie’s mouth, all the way to the back of his throat. Richie let out a deep, heavy noise somewhere between a grunt and a sob and sucked on Eddie’s fingers. His cheeks were wet and his eyes flew open, meeting Eddie’s.

Eddie let his hand go slack and his fingers slipped out of Richie’s mouth.

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathed, hardly believing everything he’d done and equally shocked at Richie’s reactions. “Holy shit, Rich.”

“You’ve officially killed me,” Richie croaked. “I’m dead. Gone. Sayonara Trashmouth.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and then rolled off Richie’s lap. Richie immediately turned his body to face Eddie, rested his head on his hand propped up on his elbow and looked into Eddie’s eyes, glasses foggy around the edges. Richie was looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, maybe the moon, as well. Eddie gave him a fond smile. “Quit staring at me, you creep.”

Richie chuckled. “Jesus, Eds. You’re a bossy little shit on the best of days but in the bedroom? Holy fuck, babe. You’re  _ amazing.” _

Eddie’s cheeks were burning. “So it wasn’t… too much for you?”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

Eddie giggled, then groaned. “Ew, I can feel your come dripping out of me now. Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. You said you wanted it.”

“And I’d do it again, too.” He sat up and reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand. “But we still need to clean it up before it ruins the sheets.”

When they were lying back down in comfortable clothes, on their sides, facing each other, and Richie was tracing circles on Eddie’s chest, Eddie saw more than heard Richie swallow. Richie’s brows pinched slightly on his forehead and Eddie’s heart rate picked up, fearing that Richie was about to tell him he’d gone too far.

“Can I ask you something?” Richie said quietly.

“Of course.”

Richie took a deep breath. “I liked that. Like… a lot. A fuckin’ weirdly huge amount. Y’know, when you get all bossy and shit.”

He paused, so Eddie nodded. “I liked it, too.”

“But I-I don’t know if I like it so much when you say that kind of thing when we’re… just doing normal, everyday stuff. I’m sure you don’t even realise you’re doing it, but sometimes you ask me to do something, and it comes out as more of an order than a request. And I’m happy to do it! Don’t get me wrong. I just… I think I’d like it more if I felt like I had a  _ choice _ to do something you wanted instead of being made to do it. I dunno if I’m making any sense…”

“You are,” Eddie said quickly. “You’re making sense. And I’m sorry for doing that. You’re right; I didn’t even realise. I guess I just… I like being in control of myself and my life.”

Richie snorted. “You don’t say.”

“Let me finish,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe my subconscious has realised that you like doing what I want, like it’s noticed a link between my wants and yours, and I just  _ say _ things without actually realising why I’m saying it, just because it means that I get to be in charge of what’s happening at that moment. But I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m in control of  _ your _ life, too.”

Richie nodded. “Okay. I mean, I  _ do _ like, uh, pleasing you, I guess? In everyday life. I do like having our place set up and organised to your liking and I’m happy to let you choose what movies we watch and the food we eat and all that, just not all of the time.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurted. “I— God, I’m so sorry, Richie. I never wanted you to feel like your needs aren’t being met.”

“No, they are! That’s the thing, that’s what I’m saying, Spaghetti. When you’re happy, I’m happy. All I’m trying to get at is that I’d probably be more happy if I felt like I was doing stuff for you just ‘cause I wanted to, not because you want me to do stuff for you.”

“Even if I do.”

“Even if you do,” Richie repeated. “And I don’t mind if you do. I get that you haven’t really been allowed to do stuff for yourself for most of your life, and I’m so fuckin’ happy that you get to do that now. But just… maybe tone it back a little when it comes to me? Like when you tell me what to wear. That’s sorta unnecessary and I also know you secretly love my shitty sense of style.”

“I don’t know if you could even call it style,” Eddie grumbled. “But, yeah, sorry, yes. I’ll do my best. And if I do it unknowingly, just call me out, yeah?”

“Of course, Eds,” Richie said, smiling fondly at him and making Eddie’s heart stutter because he really did not feel like he deserved Richie being this understanding when Eddie had been such an asshole. “But when we’re having sex? Please, feel fuckin’ free to fuck me into the mattress as aggressively as you want.” A soft flush rose to Richie’s cheeks and he averted his eyes.

Eddie licked his lips. “Fuck you into the mattress, huh?” he repeated, giving Richie an out, a chance to just turn it into a joke if he wanted.

Richie’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, resuming the soft, circular touches on Eddie’s chest. “Yeah, maybe one day. Soon, I mean. Maybe soon.”

Eddie’s lips twitched, his insides fluttering just at the thought of getting to follow through on that one day. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I think I’ve always known you’d like that kinda thing in bed.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie shrugged. “From what I’ve seen of you in the past. With girls and stuff. I think I always knew you’d like being on your back, having someone over you like that.”

“When the hell have you seen me and girls?”

“Oh, please. You and fuckin’ Emily Whiting were  _ always _ making out at school, and she manhandled you around and pushed you against the art room doors and stuff and  _ I, _ a repressed gay teen, had to watch the love of my life being bossed around by a five-foot-tall  _ nerd. _ Not to mention the times I walked in on Tammy Ferris on top of you, or the fact that Sandy hardly ever had a hickey on her but you were fucking  _ covered _ with them.”

Richie was silent for a moment, hand stilling its movements on Eddie’s chest. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “The love of your life, huh? Those are some strong words, Spaghetti. Better take ‘em back real quick before they’re set in stone.”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Never. I’d never take it back.” Richie’s lip quivered, brows furrowing together, so Eddie ducked down and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “You are the love of my life, Richie.”

“Eds,” Richie sniffled, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You didn’t need to do anything. I’ve always loved you just the way you are.”

Richie sobbed openly, burying his face against Eddie’s chest and kissing his hand. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Eddie continued running his hands through Richie’s hair for several minutes until he’d relaxed again. He squeezed his hand and pressed soft kisses into his hair. “You know, Rich, I was thinking some more…” He paused for a moment, running his other hand up and down Richie’s back. “I want to tell my mom about me. About us.”

Richie pulled back. “What?”

“I want to go back to Derry and see her.”

“But why? You know she’s just gonna lose her shit. I thought we already said this was a bad idea.”

Eddie shook his head. “I  _ have _ to do this. Please, Richie. You have to come with me.”

Richie sighed, nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s collarbone. “Alright, fine. We can go back to Derry. But I can’t promise I won’t swan kick her like a fuckin’ Mr Miyagi wannabe.”

Eddie snorted. “It’s Daniel that does the swan kicking, numbnuts.”

“Yeah, my nuts are still kinda out of it, too.”

“You’re such an idiot.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Richie’s head. “God, I love you so much.”

Richie hummed, content. “We’ll see how much you love me once your mom gets her claws back into you,” he joked. “Mrs K, the Eddie-bear puppet master.”

“Beep beep, Richie. I won’t let her touch me or you. It’ll be fine. I just— I  _ need _ to talk to her. This is something I need to do, just like coming out to the Losers was something I needed to do.”

“Okay,” Richie conceded. “I have four days off the week after next.”

Eddie nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. Confronting his mom felt like the last hurdle he had to overcome before he could finally let go of his past. He had Richie, he had his Losers, he just needed to do this one last thing for himself and then he’d be truly free. No matter the outcome, whether she slapped him in the face and kicked him to the curb or if she cried endlessly and blamed Richie for making him this way, even if, by some miracle, she was indifferent to the whole situation - because that was about as good of an outcome as Eddie could hope for - Eddie would know that he’d done all he could. No one could ask any more of him. He couldn’t ask any more of himself.

“I guess we’re going back to Derry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha me? giving Eddie character development disguised as porn? more likely than you’d think
> 
> so, we've reached the point where I haven't actually prewritten much of the next chapter. I've been feeling pretty sad about this fic coming to an end and I've been putting off writing it lol hence all the porn and fluff oneshots. so if anyone wants to come chat with me on tumblr [@bowtiescarves](http://bowtiescarves.tumblr.com) and hype me up or leave me a comment with your thoughts, it's always greatly appreciated <3


	19. He was not fucking weak anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 1996. Eddie takes his life back and Richie ties up some loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say in this author's note because it has been many months since I posted and I wanted to explain where I've been but I also wanted to just let you guys finally read this goddamn chapter and so I decided to make a tumblr post about it instead, for those who are interested. [Here's the explanation of where I've been if anyone wanted to know.](https://bowtiescarves.tumblr.com/post/637397297244815360/where-have-i-been-since-july-firstly-i-just)
> 
> Also heh this chapter is 14k words, I'm very sorry. One day I'll learn how to keep things short and sweet, but definitely not here.
> 
> Warnings for homophobia and more of that sex stuff like the last chapter.

The drive from New York City to Derry was twelve hours, so they decided to make it a two-day affair and stop by Portsmouth overnight, just for old time’s sake. They actually had enough money to book a motel room this time, much to Eddie’s delight, even if it meant squishing themselves into a single bed because that’s all that was available. It was nice, nostalgic even, having Richie’s warm body completely pressed down the length of his back, arm draped across his waist like they’d been doing for so many years prior. It was no wonder the rest of their friends had been betting on their relationship.

They ducked into Kate’s-with-a missing-apostrophe and got milkshakes as they had the last time they were here, when Eddie was freshly eighteen and had just realised how head over heels he was for his best friend. Richie smeared whipped cream all over Eddie’s mouth and nose and then proceeded to lick it all up like the disgusting cretin he was. Eddie couldn’t stop laughing.

The second half of their drive was much quieter. Eddie knew that Richie was still deciding whether or not he was going to see his parents, but he had an inkling that he was leaning towards it. Richie’s relationship with his mother was complicated and Eddie disliked how badly he used to think of her when they were teenagers when he probably didn’t know the whole story and probably judged her too harshly. Hell, he would have given anything to have a mom who didn’t smother him. But it was easier to think those things than to tell Richie he should be grateful that he didn’t have Sonia as a parent. Richie had his own issues with his mother and god knew his father wasn’t a kind man. Eddie wondered how his own life would have turned out if Frank had been around. The man had already done more for Eddie’s health and happiness by leaving him a college fund than Sonia had ever done with her fake medicine and overbearing, manipulative bullshit. There was caring and natural worrying, and then there was calling Bill’s place every half hour the first time Eddie slept over, brainwashing him into finding some kind of sick comfort in his inhaler even years after knowing it did nothing for him, being responsible for years of self-hatred and vomiting in school bathrooms whenever his eyes lingered on Richie or Bill for too long and honestly, just— fuck his mom. Richie was right. Fuck his mom. 

Eddie was working himself up to exploding the moment he stepped foot on the front porch at this rate. He wouldn’t even make it inside the house before he snapped at her. He’d be lucky to get out of the car without having a full-blown meltdown.

Passing the sign that said _Welcome to Derry_ felt a bit like a reality check and a lot like Eddie’s lungs were going to collapse in on themselves. He took a deep, shuddering breath and gripped the steering wheel tighter. This was it, he supposed. He was going to confront his mom, tell her that he was gay and that he was with Richie, call her out on her bullshit and— and—

And what?

Give her their landline number and ask her to call sometime? That was ridiculous. For one, she’d never do that, and Eddie didn’t even know if he wanted her to. He didn’t love her, didn’t care about her, didn’t particularly want her in his life. He just…

He just needed to be his truest self and Sonia had played a horrifyingly huge role in Eddie learning about himself. He needed the closure. He needed to come full circle and make the two opposing ends of his life meet - the part of him that feared everything under the sun, that hid away in shame, that listened to her and believed her, that felt the need to carry around an entire goddamn pharmacy in a fanny pack like a prickling itch under his skin, and the part that loved and cared, that ran circles around the oval and felt freedom in the fullness of his lungs, that could stare a monster in the eyes and kick and scream and come out on top. Scared Eddie and Brave Eddie. He needed to let Scared Eddie go and that started and ended with letting Sonia go.

“Hey.”

Richie’s soft voice cut through Eddie’s spiralling thoughts. He hadn’t even realised how hard he’d been breathing. He exhaled deeply and pulled off to the side of the road. Richie’s hand rested on his knee.

“You know, we don’t have to do this. Remember I have stuff planned for afterwards so this trip isn’t a waste. You don’t--”

Eddie shook his head immediately. “Yes, I do.”

Maybe it was something Richie would never understand. Maybe he didn’t need him to understand, he just needed him to listen and be there for him, to hold his hand and wipe his tears away and kiss him until he forgot why he ever cared about what his mom thought of him.

It took a few minutes, Richie’s thumb caressing gently, rubbing back and forth across Eddie’s knee, before his breathing returned to normal. Richie didn’t say anything, which seemed both incredibly considerate of him, knowing Eddie had to work through this on his own, and uncharacteristically concerning, because it was Richie, after all. Maybe Richie understood more than Eddie realised.

Eddie pulled back onto the road and concentrated on his breathing. He’d tagged along to exactly one of Richie’s therapy sessions to milk some free advice from his doctor and amongst being stressed out of his mind due to being inside the doctor’s clinic, breathing exercises to keep a panic attack at bay was about the only thing he remembered her saying. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.

In for four. Look right, look left, indicate, make a left turn.

Hold for seven. Harlow Street, Foster Avenue, Main Street.

Out for eight. Take a left, another left, then a right…

Home.

The Kaspbrak house looked exactly the same as when Eddie had crawled out the window in the middle of the night nearly two years ago and ran away to New York with Richie Tozier, his best friend and probably soulmate. He’d grown so much from the scared little boy he’d been harassed into being from six years ago, even from the more self-assured, somewhat rebellious teenager who kissed a boy in the snow four years after that. Eddie stared at the front porch, the red door and the dead pot plants and the windows with the curtains drawn. He wondered if his room was the same, too. He wondered if Sonia had hoped he’d return, if she prayed every night for her son to come back to her or if she knew, somewhere in her warped heart, that he was gone forever.

Well, here Eddie was, back in Derry, back at his childhood home.

He reached out and fumbled around for Richie’s hand, inhaling and exhaling, breath shuddering out of his lungs. Richie let him sit there for a few minutes until he’d gathered the courage to kill the engine and unbuckle his seatbelt, another minute or so before he opened the door and stepped out onto the streets of Derry.

“Remember,” Eddie said as they walked slowly up the steps, “Just let me talk, please.”

Richie mimed zipping his lips shut and flicking the key away.

Eddie raised his hand to knock, fist lingering two inches from the door until it started to shake slightly.

“Eds.” Richie’s voice was almost a whisper. “We don’t ha—”

“No, fuck that,” Eddie said.

_Knock knock knock._

His arm dropped and his entire body froze, muscles and throat tightening as they waited for a beat, another, another, and then Eddie heard the sound of keys in the door. He took a step back and the door opened a crack.

“E-Eddie? Eddie-bear?”

The door swung open and Eddie laid his eyes on the woman who ruined his life. Her hands were cupping her face, eyes welling up with blubbering tears, and she took a step forward, reaching one hand out to Eddie. Sonia stopped short when she noticed Richie standing beside him, gaze hardening as it lingered in the lack of space between them and she came to the realisation that they’d come here together.

“Hi, Ma,” Eddie said. “Can we come in?”

“Eddie? Where have you been, sweetie? Of course, of course, _you_ can come inside. You live here, Eddie, don’t be silly. But that Richard boy has to stay outside.”

Eddie shook his head. “No, Mom. Richie’s staying with me. If you don’t let him in, I’m staying outside, too.”

Sonia’s face screwed up into a grimace, eyes darting back and forth between the two boys. She huffed reluctantly, turning to trudge her way back into the living room. Eddie snuck a glance at Richie, his fingers itching to reach out and touch him. They followed Sonia inside and remained standing across from her.

“Eddie, darling,” she began, her sickly sweet tone grating on Eddie’s ears, “Do you mind telling your mommy where you’ve been all this time? And why you’re here with that friend of yours? You know he’s a bad influence on you, Eddie.”

Eddie took a deep breath, pushing the air out of his lungs slowly and taking his time to respond, considering his words carefully. “Mom, I’m here because I need to talk to you about something.”

Sonia nodded quickly. “Yes? Spit it out then, Eddie. I don’t have all day. We’ll need to get your things moved back into your room before dark.”

Eddie licked his lips. “No, Mom, you’re not listening to me. Just let me speak, okay?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to concede. She stared at him for a beat, then nodded. “I need to talk to you about something that is very important to me. It’s about where I’ve been all this time.”

Sonia’s lip quivered, but Eddie could tell it was fake. He’d seen her bust out the ugly sobbing more times than he cared to remember. “It’s nearly been two years, Eddie-bear! I thought you had died!”

“I moved to New York with Richie.”

“N-New York? Eddie, you know the kinds of people who live in New York. Don’t you remember that story I told you about my friend on the subway? It’s dangerous there, Eddie. You should come back to Derry so Mommy can protect you.”

“Sonia,” Richie cut in, “Shut the fuck up, will you? Eddie’s trying to speak and you won’t let him get a fucking word in.”

Eddie turned his head and blinked at Richie, who shrunk in on himself slightly.

The vein in Sonia’s forehead looked like it was about to burst. “How dare you speak to me like that in my own home?! See what I mean, Eddie? That boy is a terrible influence on you! You know I heard Linda and Sandra from the salon saying that he had h—”

“Mom! Richie’s right! Shut up and let me fucking finish!” Eddie snapped, throwing his arms out to the side. He counted to five as he inhaled and exhaled, heart pounding against his ribs. _“Please,_ this is important to me.”

Sonia’s jaw clenched. “Fine. Speak then.”

Eddie groaned softly. He could do this. He _could._

“Mom, I’m living in New York with Richie. I’m going to college there, studying something that I love, that I’m really passionate about. I didn’t want to lie to you about UMaine, but you left me no choice. I had to do this. I wasn’t happy living here with you. I’m happy with Richie.”

“Eddie,” Sonia hissed, “You must be careful with him. What I was trying to say is that Sandra said he might have _homosexual feelings towards you.”_

Richie snorted. “Sandy said that, did she?”

Sonia glared at Richie, then snapped her harsh gaze back to Eddie. “Yes, so you shouldn’t be around him. He’ll infect you with his _disease_ if you’re not careful.” She paused, staring right into Eddie’s eyes, clearly expecting some kind of reaction. “Eddie-bear, they said that Richard Tozier was _in love with you.”_

A strange, heated sensation was bubbling in Eddie’s chest, his breath quickening. He could feel himself beginning to lose his composure. “Well, you know what, Ma? I’d sure as fuck hope so.” Eddie glanced down to where Richie’s hands were hanging awkwardly by his side and reached out to grab one. “Because I’m in love with Richie, too.”

Sonia shook her head, lips starting to quiver again. “No, you’re not. You’re confused. He’s done this to you, Eddie. Let Mommy help you, please. If you just come back home to me, I can fix y—”

“I’m not broken!” Eddie cried. “There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m just _gay,_ Ma.” Sonia started sobbing. “No, no, that won’t work on me anymore! I’m not a fucking kid who’ll believe everything you say. I’m not confused, I know I love Richie. I love _boys._ I’ve always loved boys and nothing you’ve ever said could change that!”

“Eddie.” Sonia’s voice cracked. “Eddie, it’s okay, we can get you fixed. I know a doctor who can help you. This is not you, Eddie. This— It’s that place you’re living in that’s infected you. It’s this Richard that’s done this to you. We’ll find you a nice girl here in Derry and—”

“For fuck’s sake, Mom. I’ve never been as happy as I am when I’m with Richie in New York. I came back here thinking that maybe I could get through to you, but I should’ve known you’d be like this. I should have fucking known.”

Sonia burst into another fit of tears. “Has he touched you, Eddie-bear?” she sobbed, not even listening to him anymore. “If he’s hurt you, I’ll never forgive myself! I c-can’t believe I ever let you be friends with him, Eddie. He’s always been such a horrible influence on you - all the smoking and skipping school a-a-and _sexual relations._ I always hated him and I wish you had never met him!”

“Hey!” Richie snapped. “You don’t get to judge my past when the person you still are now is a cunt.” Sonia recoiled, slapping her hand over her heart. “You can think what you like about me, but Eddie makes me a better person. He is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s saved my life more times than he even knows. He’s the _strongest_ person I’ve ever met and I’m astounded by his bravery every fucking day that I’m privileged enough to spend with him.”

Eddie blinked back tears as Richie barrelled on.

“Eddie is _not_ sick. He does not have a disease and neither do I. _You’re_ the one with a problem, Sonia, so fuck you and your bullshit, backwards ideas. Eddie _loves_ me.” Richie’s voice wavered on the word _love,_ his face beginning to crumble, and Eddie’s heart clenched. “I don’t know what I did to deserve his love, but I’ve got it. I’ve got it and you don’t, because you never even loved your own goddamn son, you fucking _bitch.”_

Sonia’s lips stilled and her eyes narrowed. “You don’t deserve Eddie’s love.”

Richie just laughed, head falling back. “You know what? I think I fucking do.”

Eddie’s heart soared and he couldn’t have stopped himself reaching over to pull Richie down for a kiss if he’d tried. It only lasted a few seconds, the soft press of Richie’s lips against his, and Eddie absently registered his mother gasping in shock, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a single fuck. He pulled back after a moment and rested his forehead against Richie’s, mouth twitching into a gentle smile. “I love you so fucking much, Rich,” he whispered, letting them share a moment that had nothing to do with Sonia and everything to do with Richie’s heartfelt speech.

The moment didn’t last long, however, as Sonia scoffed loudly and Eddie turned around to face his mother.

“You disgust me,” she spat, the blubbering mess she’d been a few minutes ago completely gone. “I can’t believe this is what you have become, Eddie. I thought you had died, because that seemed more likely to me than thinking you had run away from me when all I’ve ever done is care for you.” She shook her head. “I would have rathered you died than become a filthy homosexual and be with Richard Tozier.”

It was like a slap in the face, yet somehow so much worse. The anger that had been building inside of him earlier had started to be replaced with an overwhelming love for Richie, but Sonia’s words felt like a bucket of ice water being poured over his head, quelling any other thought or feeling he could have because he was now frozen in shock. His insides churned and he worried for a moment that he might vomit all over the floor. Richie’s hand was still in his and Eddie felt him squeeze, unable to squeeze back, unable to get his muscles to cooperate with his brain. Eddie and Sonia stared each other down, her expression hardening, the corner of her mouth twitching like she thought she was going to win the fight and that he’d come running back to her.

No _fucking_ way.

“If that’s what you think,” Eddie finally said, proud of himself for keeping his voice steadier than his heart felt, “And if that’s how you’re going to treat me, then I can promise you that this is the last time you are _ever_ going to see me.”

Sonia’s straight face quivered, brows creasing together ever so slightly. “Eddie, sweetie, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that. Mommy loves you.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, feeling bold and confident in a strange way he never had around his mom before. “No, you don’t. You never have. And I don’t love you, either. I haven’t for many, many years. Oh, and by the way - I used to take your spare change and give it to Richie to buy cigarettes.” Sonia recoiled, gasped, and Eddie turned to face Richie. “We’re leaving. Together,” he told him, and then looking back at Sonia, “And we are _never_ coming back.”

Eddie spun around and walked towards the door, pulling Richie by the hand. He heard Sonia scrambling around behind them, calling out to him, wailing and begging for him, but he didn’t even spare her a glance over his shoulder. He straightened his back and walked right out the door, Richie hot on his tail, and down the front steps without looking back.

Eddie went around to the passenger seat and dropped the keys on the middle console for Richie. His jaw clenched and unclenched, hands balled up in fists that rested on the tops of his thighs. He wanted to cry. He wanted to punch his mother in the face. He wanted to fuck Richie in the back of their car. He was overwhelmed with emotions and he needed to let them out before his head exploded all over their freshly detailed seats.

Richie started the car and pulled away from the house, rolling slowly down the streets towards the main part of town.

“Eds? Baby, talk to me. What do you want to do now?”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “I just need to get away from her. I need to breathe.”

Richie nodded, and he must have decided on someplace in particular because he did a three-point turn and headed back in the opposite direction. Eddie kept his eyes shut for a few minutes longer, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and counting slowly backwards from one hundred. He eventually opened his eyes and looked around, not really paying attention to where they were going until they were out of the main area of town and driving off towards the woods. Eddie frowned.

“Where are we going?” he asked, voice quiet in the otherwise silent car.

“We’re going to do something fun. I said I had a plan for if shit hits the fan so this trip wasn’t a waste, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

Eddie looked out the side window, finally registering what road they were on. “Are we going to the quarry?”

“And bingo was his name-o,” Richie chuckled.

They parked at the bottom, near the rocks they used to sit on as kids, and walked up to the top. Richie held his hand the whole way, even as he complained about Eddie walking too fast and that he wasn’t fit enough to keep up with him. It made Eddie smile, made his heart clench with fondness for this stupid boy - this _man,_ nearly - that loved him so dearly. When they reached the top, Richie was sweating a little, and Eddie laughed at him.

“You’re so unfit,” Eddie teased, reaching up to cup Richie’s cheek affectionately. “Stupid.”

“Aw, Eds, I love you, too,” Richie panted. “C’mon. Strip.”

“What?” Eddie recoiled, pulling his hand away. “What do you mean, _strip?”_

Richie flashed him a wide grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “Time to fulfil that wild ass dream of yours.” He shrugged his patterned shirt off and tossed it to the ground. “Get naked, dude. We’re going skinny dipping.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

He probably should have been repulsed by the idea, hadn’t really been serious whenever he’d suggested it in the past, but there was something about the way that Richie was looking at him, smiling like he was so proud of the fact that he came up with this idea to do something he thought Eddie had always wanted. Maybe he had always wanted it. Maybe the very idea of doing something that seemed disgusting, something that his mom would have screamed at him for, would have lectured him about for hours to be careful, was something he’d been constantly looking for since he gave up his inhaler and pills. Richie was one of those things, Eddie realised all of a sudden, someone his mom hadn’t wanted him around, still didn’t want him around, but someone he’d cared for so deeply that even at six and seven years of age he’d learned to take what she said with a grain of salt and he’d _wanted_ to stay friends with Richie. It hadn’t mattered how dirty the boy was, how messy his hair looked or how he sometimes forgot to chew with his mouth closed or tie his shoelaces. It hadn’t mattered that his mom liked Stanley Uris more, the clean and quiet religious boy who had a bedtime and did all his shirt buttons up and whose white shoes stayed white for longer than a day. No, Eddie wanted _Richie,_ dirt and all.

Eddie had never been repulsed by Richie in the way his mom had wanted him to be. Eddie had let Richie sneak into his bedroom on Thursday nights, had left him notes and gifts and money at work, had wrapped his arms and legs around him in his single bed and held on as if his life depended on it. Eddie had loved Richie before he even understood what that meant.

He almost couldn’t believe that he was letting Richie talk him into this, but maybe he could, maybe he _had_ wanted it, wanted something crazy and stupid and messy just like Richie was. Eddie bent down to untie his shoes and toed them off, stripped off his socks and tucked them into each shoe. Even coming to the quarry with the Losers was something his mom would have balked at and that thought made him smile a little, being rebellious even as a young teenager who’d still relied on his fake medicine to get him through each day. He supposed it started out in small ways, in befriending who he wanted and going places she hadn’t allowed, progressing to eventually throwing away his pill bottles and inhaler and running away to another state and being _himself_ and not letting _anyone_ tell him he couldn’t. He supposed he’d been getting there by himself already, even before Richie asked him to run away together.

“You ready, Spaghetti?”

Eddie stripped off his pants and t-shirt as Richie dropped his underwear and added it to the pile of clothes. A soft flush rose to Eddie’s cheeks at the sight of Richie naked in a context that was entirely non-sexual, embarrassed at who the fuck knew what. Richie chuckled and slid his glasses off.

“Aw, Eds, why so shy for? Like you don’t see this hot piece of ass every damn day,” Richie teased, shooting him a wink and wiggle of his brows. “C’mon, get your cute butt outta those tiny little briefs.” Richie made grabby hands at Eddie’s crotch and Eddie smacked him away.

“No touching, I’m getting to it.” He pushed his underwear down his legs and added it to the clothes on the ground. “Okay,” he breathed. “Let's do this.”

Eddie extended his hand and took Richie’s, not even letting himself think twice before he turned to the edge of the cliff and made a run for it. He tugged Richie along with him, the soles of his feet slapping hard against the dirt as they ran towards the edge, his heart leaping into his throat as they jumped off with a shout. Eddie’s stomach swooped as it always did whenever he jumped into the quarry. They fell, air rushing past them, messing up their hair. He let go of Richie’s hand and tucked his knees in right before they plunged through the surface with a loud splash, causing a ripple of water to shoot out beneath him and surge up into his nose as he sank down.

Eddie came to the surface moments before Richie, gasping for air and grinning so widely that his cheeks started to hurt and when Richie emerged, shaking his head and sending water flying everywhere, Eddie swam over to him. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders and pulled him in for a wet kiss. Eddie couldn’t stop smiling, the adrenaline rush from the jump keeping his emotions running high as he slid his tongue into Richie’s mouth and tangled his fingers in his wet hair. Perhaps part of Eddie could hardly believe he was doing this right now, swimming naked in dirty water, and he thought about how much his teenage self would have screeched and lectured anyone in sight about the filth swirling around his body at the moment. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist and thought about how all of that meant nothing at this moment, letting their skin touch in every place he could, letting their lips slide together easily, like they’d been doing this their whole lives.

Eddie pulled back and Richie looked up at him, eyes so warm and open that it made his breath catch in his throat and he couldn’t believe how much he loved him. “Thank you for this,” Eddie whispered. “I love you so much, Rich. So, _so_ much.”

Richie kissed him softly. “I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Eddie said.

“I loved you first,” Richie countered. “Can’t argue with that one.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let his legs fall from around Richie’s waist, drifting down slowly in the water. He tugged at Richie’s hand as they swam back to the rocks. “How are we supposed to get our clothes?” he asked, suddenly realising that they’d have to walk up to the top of the cliff naked.

Richie chuckled. “Why do you think we parked down here, Spaghetti?”

“You left your glasses up there.”

“So? You can drive then.”

Eddie blanched. “You want me to sit my wet, bare ass in the car?”

Richie just rolled his eyes. “We got it detailed last week, dude. It’s fine. Acceptably clean for a cute little spaghetti butt. And also, you think I didn’t think ahead? There’s some towels in my bag in the back seat that you can sit on and so you can dry yourself off.”

Eddie blinked at him. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” His lips twitched into a smile. “You thought of everything. To make me comfortable and happy.”

“Of course, Eds. I kept a spare inhaler in my backpack for years. I still do.” Richie shrugged, pulling himself out of the water and extending his hand. “You’ve always been my top priority.”

Eddie let himself be pulled onto the shore, careful where he was stepping so as to not stand on any sharp rocks. He squeezed Richie’s hand as they walked back to the car, Richie getting a towel out and draping it around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie grabbed his hand and stopped him before he could walk around to the other side of the car, and as Richie turned back around and they stared at each other for a few seconds, Eddie’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “I really appreciate what you said back there. To my mom. You didn’t have to say anything, but what you said… I’m so happy that I have you,” he whispered. “You’re everything to me. You’re… You’re my family, Rich. More real and more loving than my mom ever was.”

Richie’s brows creased together. “Eds…”

“No,” Eddie said quickly, putting a finger to Richie’s lips for a moment. He cupped his cheek, ran his thumb along his cheekbone and tucked a wet curl behind his ear. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m so grateful that you came here with me - _for_ me - and let me do this for myself. I love you for that. I love you for everything you do for me, even before we were together and probably before I even knew that I loved you. I think, maybe I’ve always loved you. And being here now, with you, I don’t even care that my mom doesn’t want me around. I don’t want her around, either. We have the Losers and our new friends and I just…” Eddie dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to continue looking into Richie’s open, expressive eyes, unobstructed without his glasses and already started to dampen with tears. Eddie felt his own eyes prickling and he inhaled deeply. “Being with you has been the best time of my life and I don’t know how to express how important you are to me.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Richie’s parted lips, felt Richie exhale a shaky breath into his mouth.

“Eddie,” Richie whispered against his lips, “I meant what I said to your mom. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Eddie pulled back and sniffled. “God, stop that, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Richie giggled. “And I thought I was the crybaby here.”

“You are. I’m just having a moment of weakness.”

“I guess I’m really rubbing off on you, eh?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes. “You can rub off on me later. But right now I’m cold and I want to get dressed.” As Richie turned to walk around the car, Eddie reached out and pinched his ass, making him yelp and then break out into laughter. Eddie grinned, watching his boyfriend scramble to get away and hop into the car, placing the towel down on the seat before getting in himself.

Richie took over the driver’s seat once they were dry and dressed and had decided to head back into town. They drove down Main Street, passing by Dominos and the pharmacy and the Aladdin. Eddie felt his throat closing up slightly, fond memories of the Losers and horrible memories of the bullies and the clown all rushing back into the front of his mind. He remembered playing arcade games with Richie while Bill cheered them on and Stan watched from the sidelines, pretending to be less interested than he was, or the countless times Patrick Hockstetter had chased him and Richie out of the arcade, screaming insults in their faces, while they clutched at each others’ hands and ran like their lives depended on it. He recalled going on a date that wasn’t really a date with Matt Roberts to see Jurassic Park, recalled seeing Richie working there and feeling his heart stop at the sight of him while they were in the middle of their big fight. He thought about Greta Keene making snarky comments every time he went to collect his medication, thought about what the Loser-Lover symbolised to him even now. He sighed, leaned his elbow on the edge of the car window and rested his chin in his palm.

“It seems like so long since we’ve been here, but it hasn’t even been two years.”

He heard Richie hum in agreement. “Yeah. Feels weird. Like so much has changed, but it’s actually us who’ve changed.” 

Richie pulled off down another side street and Eddie realised all of a sudden that they were headed to the Toziers’ house. He waited until they’d parked in the driveway before speaking up.

“You decided to see them?”

Richie shrugged. “Yeah. You inspired me.”

Eddie frowned. “How?”

“Your bravery has always inspired me,” Richie said simply. “I’m gonna tell them about why I left and about us, too. If you have the courage to stand up to your piece of shit abusive mom, then I can see if my absent parents have even noticed I was gone.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh, brows pinching together on his forehead. “Rich, of course they would’ve noticed you were gone. Come on, sweetheart, you can’t really think that.”

“Yeah, maybe. Still doesn’t mean they’re gonna be any happier to see me than your mom was.”

Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip. “You don’t know that. Let’s go inside and find out, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie waited for Richie to exit the car first. They walked slowly down the driveway, hand in hand, and Eddie could almost feel Richie’s pulse through his palm. Richie’s other hand was stuffed in his jacket pocket, but Eddie suspected it would have otherwise been shaking, not unlike Eddie’s had been when walking up to his own front door. They stopped, Richie’s hand outstretched, finger hovering over the doorbell. Eddie squeezed his hand.

_Ding dong._

Maggie opened the door far quicker than Sonia had, and then she took a long moment to stare at her son. “Richie,” she breathed. “You’re home.”

“I’m not home, Mags, I’m visiting,” Richie said.

Maggie’s eyes widened slightly and grew wet with tears. “You’re… You’re _here,_ baby, you’re here.” She stepped forward and engulfed Richie in a hug. His hand slipped out of Eddie’s grip and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, buried his face in her curly hair.

Eddie’s heart clenched as Richie let out a quiet sob. “Mom. I’ve missed you,” he mumbled.

“I’ve missed you, too, Richie,” Maggie whispered. She pulled back slowly, cupping Richie’s face. Her eyes were wet and shiny and Eddie did not doubt Richie’s were, as well. “Why don’t you two come inside?”

Richie nodded, turned back to Eddie, and they exchanged a gentle smile. They followed Maggie into the house and Eddie wondered how this conversation was going to compare to the disaster that was earlier that afternoon with his own mom. Maggie took them into the living room and sat in the armchair, gesturing with an open palm to the couch for the two of them. Richie sat down slowly and Eddie followed his lead, watching him fiddle with his fingers in his lap. Eddie itched to reach out and grab Richie’s hand, show him there was nothing to be nervous about, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true and he also had no idea how Maggie would react to their affection, no matter how small.

“So,” Richie began, keeping his eyes on his fidgeting hands, “I’m just gonna go out and say it because I’m tired of holding things back around you guys. I’m dating Eddie and we’re living together in New York.”

The muscles around Maggie’s mouth twitched and she glanced back and forth between Richie and Eddie for several moments. “Oh,” she said. “I had no idea you were gay, sweetie.”

“I’m actually bi,” Richie corrected her - no hesitation, no stumbling over his words. It made Eddie smile.

“Okay.” Maggie paused. “Is that why you ran away? Because you were dating a boy?”

Richie snorted. “No. We weren’t dating then. We, uh, just needed to get away. You know what Sonia’s like and I-- I didn’t really wanna be here, either. Mostly ‘cause of Dad, but, you know.”

Eddie watched Maggie swallow and she spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. “You know, honey, your father’s not actually around anymore.”

Richie frowned at her. “He’s what?”

“We’re separated. Divorce proceedings to happen soon.” Maggie let out a long sigh and Eddie finally decided to take Richie’s hand with both of his, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his skin. Maggie continued talking, “When you disappeared, I realised that I had… fucked up. I knew that if, by some miracle, I ever got to see you again, that I couldn’t have Wentworth in my life anymore. He was just too…” She waved her hands about and sighed again. “Well, you know what he was like. I couldn’t do it. Losing you made me realise that I’d made some bad choices in the past few years and I wanted to remedy them. I’m, uh, nearly one year sober.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his fringe. “Oh.”

Maggie huffed out a short breath and licked her lips like she was nervous. “I’m in night school, too, actually. I decided that I wanted to be a teacher. I’ve always adored little kids and it just brings back so many amazing memories of you two and Bill and Stanley from elementary school. I… I missed out on so much when you got older, and I know there’s nothing I can do to fix that. But, if you’ll have me, I want to get to know you again, Richie, baby.” Maggie’s hands twitched in her lap and she looked at Richie for a long moment, brows creasing together on her forehead. Richie’s fingers wriggled under Eddie’s and Eddie let him go, letting Maggie reach out and take her son’s hands. She sniffled. “I-I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so lonely here without your constant chatter and your obnoxiously loud music and your tribe of friends.”

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, there were a lot of us,” he mumbled under his breath. Eddie could see his lips curving into a smile. “I-I guess we could try. I can give you our landline. But, Mom, this isn’t gonna be like when I was nine. I’m an adult now and I do adult things like pay bills and drive and I even learned how to bake cookies.”

“You don’t drive,” Eddie muttered.

“You’re right, babe. Cars are way more in your wheelhouse. So is cooking, actually.” Richie looked back at his mother and she was smiling, too, glancing between the boys fondly. “I guess I just pay bills then.”

“You’re all grown up,” Maggie whispered, squeezing Richie’s hand.

“Yeah, I am.”

Maggie let out a soft sigh and her smile widened. She retracted her hand, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands on top of her knee. “Well, if you boys want, you’re welcome to stay here tonight. I don’t know if you have plans already, but Richie’s room hasn’t really changed - mostly because I couldn’t bear to clear it out - and I know you used to squeeze into that bed, both of you.”

Richie spluttered and Maggie snickered.

“Oh, don’t think you were being coy, Richard. I had a sneaking suspicion that Eddie had a bit of a crush on you and I was surprised you guys never grew out of those sleepovers.” She smiled and looked down at her hands, eyes growing distant like she was remembering fond memories. “I think it’ll take some getting used to, you two being like this together, but I need you to know, Richie, that I support you no matter who you date. Eddie’s always been such a good influence on you, anyway.”

Eddie’s mouth curved into a smile at that, wondering how he or Richie had ever thought that Maggie Tozier was a bad mother. She just didn’t understand her son, but he could see now, more clearly than ever, that she was trying her best. It was more than Eddie could say for his own mom. Maybe Maggie’s love for Richie and support for their relationship would be enough. For Richie, it certainly seemed to be. 

Richie’s eyes were wide and wet again and he leaned into Eddie’s side a little. “Yeah, Mom. That sounds great.”

Eddie wrapped his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and saw Maggie’s eyes track the movement. She smiled at them. She and Richie both looked so happy and Eddie felt like his heart was growing with warmth in his chest, overwhelmed with how well this interaction had gone. He put his mother to the back of his mind and tried to focus on Richie and Maggie’s conversation. He didn’t need Sonia to be anything like Maggie. He hated her, sure, but without her, Eddie knew he wouldn’t be nearly as strong as he was today. He’d been aware of how terrible she was for years now and he would never forgive her for how she treated him, her hateful love, her smothering, her overbearing nature, but it had all contributed to how resilient he’d grown to become and for that, he couldn’t find it in his heart to regret seeing her again. Eddie knew he didn’t need her anymore; he probably hadn’t for a long time.

Maggie told them that she was going to start dinner soon if they were interested in joining her. Richie agreed before Eddie had processed the question. They agreed to swing by the grocery store later while Maggie figured out how to rework her new recipes for more than one person, and took the time to go up to Richie’s room.

Maggie hadn’t been joking when she’d said it hadn’t changed. Eddie was surprised to see posters still stuck to the walls. Some of the paint on the ceiling had started to peel at the corners of the room and Richie’s bare desk was covered in dust; it didn’t look like anyone had been in this room since Richie had left it. Richie let go of Eddie’s hand and walked further into the room, standing in the open space where his guitar and stereo used to sit.

“Wow,” he breathed. “This is fuckin’ weird.” He sat on the edge of his bed and kicked his shoes off to swing his feet on top of the covers. As his legs hit the sheets, dust flew up and Eddie started coughing. “Shit!” Richie vaulted off the bed and dug through his backpack as Eddie hunched over with his hands on his knees, trying not to cough his lungs up onto the floor. Richie pulled out Eddie’s inhaler and popped the cap off to stick it in his mouth. “Do you want me to push?”

Something inside Eddie’s head got set off by the feeling of the useless plastic between his lips and he smacked Richie’s arm away, sending the inhaler flying across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Eddie stopped coughing and stared at it. “Sorry,” he said to Richie. “I didn’t mean to smack you. I just… I don’t want to see that thing anymore.”

“Right,” Richie said. “I’m sorry, I guess my help-Eddie instincts kicked into gear.” He stared at the inhaler, too. “Do you… I mean, do you want me to get rid of it? Like, throw it out forever?”

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off the inhaler, lying there on the floor. It was mocking him, he was sure of it. Jumping up and dancing around and pointing fingers at him, calling him weak. But that wasn’t him anymore. Eddie was not fucking weak anymore. The inhaler stopped dancing and pointing and Eddie set his jaw.

“Yes,” he decided. “Trash it.”

Richie looked at him for a moment, perhaps trying to figure out if he should listen or if Eddie was going to regret this decision later. He knew he wasn’t.

They both settled on the bed after disposing of the inhaler, backs against the headboard and legs tangled together with Eddie’s hand on Richie’s stomach, cradled between Richie’s hands. Richie played with his fingers, touching each one in turn, stroking gently up and down like he was trying to memorise the folds of skin over Eddie’s knuckles.

Eddie cleared his throat. “I was really proud of you for how you talked to your mom.”

“Yeah? So was I. I’m sort of surprised she took it so well. I know it’s gonna take some time to build a relationship again, but I’m just glad she’s willing to try.”

“It’s great, Rich,” Eddie said. He didn’t mean to sound so bitter.

Richie turned to him, frowning. “Eds, you know--”

“Don’t. Whatever you’re gonna say, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your moment with your mom. You’re allowed to be happy with her reaction.”

“Yeah, I know, and you’re also allowed to be annoyed with yours.”

Eddie shook his head. “I promise, I’m fine. I’ve finally realised that I don’t need her anymore, and that includes her approval. Coming here was good, I think. I needed it. And maybe I also needed to see your mom react positively to realise how much I don’t need mine in my life. So, be as happy as you want, Rich, because I’m happy for you, too. Fuck my mom.”

Richie’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I’ve been saying that for years.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned to lie on his side, facing Richie. Richie did the same, leaning up on one elbow and resting his cheek in his palm, smiling at Eddie. Eddie smiled back and then leaned in for a quick kiss, just pressing his lips gently against Richie’s. He sighed happily as he pulled back. “I’m glad we’re here,” Eddie said.

“It is a bit cathartic, isn’t it?” Richie’s eyebrows suddenly rose and a smirk played on his lips. “Hey, wanna fuck?”

Eddie scoffed. “Your mom is downstairs, dipshit.”

“So? We can’t say we did the whole sneaking around thing right unless we tried to silently fuck while our parents were in the house. Secret sleepovers at yours while your mom’s passed out in a food coma don’t count.”

Eddie shook his head and smacked Richie’s arm lightly. “You’re such a dork.”

“You wanna fuck me on my childhood bed, eh, Eds?”

Eddie felt his cheeks flush hot and red at that thought and his heart thudded against his ribs. He was surprised that Richie almost sounded sincere with his question, as if he was trying to get it across to Eddie that he was interested in the idea without saying it outright. Not that here and now were appropriate for Eddie to be considering fucking Richie, but still, it was progress, maybe. Eddie would have to file that information away for another night when they were back home.

Back home. New York was home now, not Derry, not anymore.

They had grown up here, but they’d flown the nest and they’d flown it together.

They were going to have dinner with Maggie and never see Sonia again and maybe tomorrow they’d venture out and explore the rest of the town, see who was still here, see what had changed. Eddie ran his hand up Richie’s arm to his shoulder and neck, carding his fingers through his hair. Richie leaned into the touch and his eyes slipped shut and Eddie couldn’t help but smile, chest blooming with affection and warmth. He leaned in while Richie’s eyes were closed and kissed him again, a little deeper this time, letting their mouths move together slowly. Maybe home wasn’t a place, he thought. Maybe home for Eddie was wherever Richie was.

* * *

Richie had decided as soon as they’d agreed to go back to Derry that there was one place in particular that he wanted to take Eddie - aside from seeing both of their parents’ and jumping naked into the quarry - and the next morning seemed like as good a time as any. He woke early after having slept with a smile on his face, overwhelmed with the foreign feeling of being so completely content with the way his life was going at the moment, with his mom getting herself back on track and Eddie standing up to Sonia. Everything slowly seemed to be falling into place and he decided, as he lay in his childhood bed and watched the morning sun splay soft light across Eddie’s face in warm flecks, that he was going to take this bout of confidence and run with it.

Richie extracted himself from Eddie’s arms and tumbled out of bed, careful not to wake him, and tiptoed downstairs. The sun had barely risen and his eyes were still groggy with sleep, but he remembered by touch where his mom kept the flour, eggs and milk. By the time Maggie and Eddie came downstairs, Richie had a plate piled high with misshapen pancakes, and he heard Eddie’s stomach rumble as he dropped into the chair across the kitchen island.

Maggie walked up behind Richie and rested her hand on his waist. “That smells delicious, honey,” she said, leaning in to sniff the fresh breakfast. Eddie’s stomach growled again.

“Thanks, Mom, I learned from the best. Now, let me feed this little gremlin before he shoves his hands into the wrong bowl and tries to eat raw batter.”

“I’d never,” Eddie said, voice a little sleep slurred. “D’you know how much fucking bacteria there is in raw egg? I’d _die.”_

Richie chuckled, walking around the bench to sit next to Eddie. He scooped two pancakes onto Eddie’s plate and pushed the butter and sugar toward him, leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead. “Not today, babe. We’ve got so much stuff to do.”

“We do?”

Richie nodded. “People to do, things to see.”

“We—” Eddie’s frown deepened. “‘M pretty sure you said that wrong.”

“Nope, I meant what I said and I said what I meant and—”

“And you’re just a dumbass, one hundred per cent.”

Maggie chuckled. “Thanks for breakfast, baby,” she said to Richie. “I’ll be in my room for a bit if you need anything. Talk later?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“Morning, Mrs. Tozier.”

After breakfast, after Eddie conceded to both squeezing into the shower to save time (but adamantly refusing to let Richie blow him because what was the point in trying to save time if he was just going to get distracted and probably cause Eddie to slip and fall and hit his head and how dare Richie suggest such a dangerous sexual activity in his childhood home of all places), they piled their bags back into the car and decided to take a walk around Derry. Richie had his specific place in mind, of course, but he let Eddie lead them for a bit, hands swinging by their sides and fingers brushing. Richie’s hand itched to reach out and hold Eddie’s, let their fingers link together and feel Eddie’s small, warm palm against his, but he didn’t suppose Derry had changed all that much in the last few years. Once they neared Main Street, Richie stuck his pinky out and tapped Eddie’s hand, nodding his head in gesture in a different direction to take them where he wanted.

Eddie didn’t ask any questions and he clearly didn’t realise where they were headed until they were on the outskirts of town and the quiet bustle of Sunday morning was far behind them. Richie stopped once they’d reached their destination and leaned against the worn down slats of the Kissing Bridge.

“Remember this place?” he asked Eddie, who had stopped a few paces ahead of him and was watching him curiously.

“Yeah. Ben got hurt here.”

“Of course, that’s what you remember. But apart from that, do you remember what people used to say about this place?”

“It’s for sucking face and carving names?” Eddie frowned slightly. “What, you wanna make out here? That’s just asking for trouble.”

“No, dipshit,” Richie sighed. He stepped aside, revealing the section of the wood where he’d carved R+E with his father’s knife all those years ago. “I meant the carving names part.”

Eddie’s frown deepened as his gaze dropped to the bridge slats. “What—?” He stopped short and inhaled a quick breath, eyes darting up to Richie, down to the carving and then across to another part of the bridge nearby. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” Richie asked, following Eddie’s gaze along the wood. “Do you not—? Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Eds?”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie breathed, “And _look.”_

Richie looked. His eyes landed on the heart carved not two feet away from his R+E. A heart with the letter R inside. Richie’s own heart stuttered as his brain caught up with him. “Oh,” he breathed.

“Oh, indeed.” Eddie took a step forward and reached out for Richie’s hands. “I can’t believe us,” he said, starting to giggle. “We both were pining so hard after each other that we came here to anonymously declare our love.” Eddie’s cheeks were tinted slightly pink and he dropped his eyes to where their hands were connected. “If only we’d talked to each other.”

Richie smiled back and shook his head. “I wasn’t ready to come out, yet. I was thirteen when I did this. I didn’t even know being bi was a thing, I just thought I was crazy.” He huffed out a laugh. “And besides, our trauma and sexuality crises made us who we are today. And now we have all the time in the world to make up for lost moments in our teenage years. Including, but not limited to, making out in my bedroom after my mom’s gone to bed.”

Eddie gave him a _look_ and Richie snickered. “Nothing more than making out, though,” Eddie conceded.

Richie chuckled. “Whatever you say, Cap’n.” He dragged his fingers along both of their carvings as they left the Kissing Bridge, heading back to the main part of town. One day, Richie hoped they’d be able to come back and actually kiss each other out there like all the other couples used to, but he knew Eddie was right in that they couldn’t risk that now. He supposed he could wait a few more years.

They stopped holding hands once they turned back onto Main Street and Eddie immediately started pointing out and commenting on all the things that had changed since they left. He stopped walking in front of a pottery shop. “I don’t remember this at all.”

“Dude, it’s been nearly two years. There’s probably loads of new stuff.”

“Rich. Hey, look. Look who’s in there.”

Richie turned to look into the store and see who Eddie was talking about and his breath caught in his throat. He felt Eddie reach out to squeeze his hand gently, and when he dragged his eyes away from the storefront to look at him, Eddie nodded towards the door and guided them to walk inside. The door chimed quietly and Richie went right up to the front counter, swallowing loudly.

“Ems?”

Her brown ponytail swished around when she heard Richie’s voice, eyes widening when they settled on the two boys standing before her.

“Richie? You— You’re here?” Emily’s eyes flickered over to Eddie. “You’re both here. You’re back?”

Richie’s free hand shot up to adjust his glasses and he threw on a grin. Eddie’s thumb brushed over Richie’s hand where they were still clasped together between them. “Trashmouth Tozier, at your service. How the hell are ya, Ems? You workin’ here?”

“I-I’m fine. I do work here. My gran who owns this place. She moved here last year.” Emily walked around the counter and Richie realised she’d now be able to see his and Eddie’s hands joined at their sides. Her eyes darted down to them immediately. “Where have you guys been?”

Richie glanced sideways at Eddie, but he didn’t seem worried. “Yeah we, um… we went to New York together.”

“Oh.” Emily blinked. _“Oh._ I always wondered about you two. I thought maybe you were just using me to, I don’t know, convince yourself you weren’t gay. Which would’ve been _fine,_ you know, because so was Samantha, but--”

“Oh, I’m not gay, I’m bi,” Richie said easily. “He is, though. He just came out to his mom, ain’t that right, Eds?”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Sonia Kaspbrak? How did that go?”

Eddie scoffed. “About as horrible as you’d expect, but you know what? I couldn’t give a fuck. She had her chance. She blew it. And if she has a problem that I blow _him,_ then fuck her.”

“I’d love to,” Richie said.

Emily glanced between them for a few seconds. “Holy hell, you guys have become the same person.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

Emily returned the chuckle, her smile slightly forced. Richie swallowed again.

“I’m sorry, Emily,” he said without preamble. He had to get this off his chest. He’d been thinking about this for two years. “I’m sorry for leaving without an explanation.”

Emily shook her head. “You didn’t owe me anything. We weren’t dating.”

“I know, but… I cared about you. I hated leaving all our friends, and that included you. I’m sorry. I never ever wanted to hurt you again.”

Emily’s brows furrowed tighter together. She sighed softly. “You’re forgiven, Richie.”

Richie’s breath rushed out of his lungs like Emily’s words had set him free. He hadn’t realised how much guilt he’d been harbouring about leaving her until that very moment, when the backs of his eyes began to prickle and he couldn’t help but step forward and wrap her up in a hug. Her body stiffened for an instant, and then she slowly wrapped her arms around his back, tucking her face against his shoulder. He felt her breathe out heavily and sniffle against him, and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

“You’ve grown,” Emily mumbled. She stepped out of his embrace and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “I didn’t think that possible.”

Eddie snorted. “He has, but it means I get all his old clothes when he grows out of them.”

“I wouldn’t think they’re your style,” Emily said.

“You’d be surprised what this little twink likes to wear,” Richie snickered, earning him a smack on the arm from Eddie.

“Don’t call me that, Dick.”

Emily chuckled, more genuinely this time, and shook her head fondly. “How could I ever have competed with this?” she mused. “You guys are clearly soulmates.”

Richie grinned and looked down at Eddie. “Yeah, I’d like to think so.”

“Sap.” Eddie rolled his eyes, but he knocked his shoulder against him all the same.

“But you know, Ems, we’re always lookin’ for threesome partners if you’re up for it.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped but his eyes were smiling. “What the fuck, Richie, I’m _gay.”_

Emily’s laugh brightened and she rolled her eyes at them. It made Richie’s heart swell with fondness. “Maybe in another lifetime,” he said with a wink. Emily snorted and offered to walk them out. Hesitating only for a moment, Richie grabbed the pen and notepad on the counter and scribbled down their landline number. “Call me sometime,” he told her. “I’ve sort of missed you, you know?”

Emily’s eyes crinkled. She ripped off the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. “I’ve sort of missed you, too, Tozier.”

Richie grinned, grabbed Eddie’s hand, and waved Emily goodbye as they walked out of the store.

Through bittersweet tears and neverending goodbye hugs, Richie also gave his mother his and Eddie’s phone number as they left that afternoon. She pressed an envelope of cash into his hand and insisted he take it as a birthday gift at least. He waved at her from the passenger seat as Eddie pulled the car out of the driveaway, watching the tears fall from her eyes. Richie’s heart swelled and he hoped she would make the right decisions when mending things between them this time.

They drove back to New York in one long trip, only stopping for bathroom breaks at gas stations and not at every fast food store they passed, despite Richie’s complaints. Eddie refused to take one of his hands off the wheel for any extended period of time to hold Richie’s hand, even though Richie pouted about that, too. Richie settled on singing and tapping his foot to whatever song came on, letting his mind wander and watching the scenery pass outside the window.

He hadn’t wanted to go to Derry in the first place, had tried to convince Eddie, on multiple occasions, that seeing his mother was a terrible idea. But he’d been wrong. Confronting Sonia had been exactly as Eddie said it would be - cathartic and precisely what Eddie needed to finally move on with the rest of his life and work towards being happy. Richie supposed that seeing his own mother had a similar effect on his own life, despite the drastically different outcomes, and settling things with Emily, finally getting to apologise for what he did to her, was such a freeing feeling, allowing him to leave behind all the self-hatred and guilt that had been building inside him at the thought of hurting the people he loved. Richie supposed that Eddie had been right about the whole thing. Everything had turned out better than Richie had expected. Maybe he should have learned by now to trust Eddie’s judgement.

When they arrived home in the evening, unpacking their bag was the only task they had any energy to complete before crashing onto the bed and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Richie nuzzled against Eddie’s shoulder and mumbled sleepy words into his sleep shirt.

“Thanks for convincing me to go to Derry,” he whispered. Eddie just hummed in response. The corners of Richie’s lips curved up and he closed his eyes.

Eddie was rostered on to work an early shift the next day, so when Richie tumbled out of bed in the late morning, he had a few hours alone to busy himself with all the househusband stuff that Eddie usually took care of. While completing those mundane tasks, Richie let his mind wander. He couldn’t even get through the load of dishes from last night’s dinner without thinking about Eddie’s warm skin and chapped lips and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He figured he would have been over that honeymoon phase by now, after loving Eddie from afar for so many years, but now his thoughts were starting to take a different turn. He was thinking about touching Eddie and trailing kisses down his body, but he was also thinking about Eddie doing the same to him. He was thinking about the jokes he made while they were in Derry about Eddie fucking him in his childhood bed. He couldn’t _stop_ thinking about Eddie fucking him. He very nearly let their sink overflow because he got so distracted at the idea of Eddie loving him like that that he forgot to turn off the faucet and just kept the water running.

The way their sex life had been going so far was more incredible than anything Richie had imagined - and in his teenage years, he definitely imagined _a lot._ Up until now, he’d mostly let Eddie take the reigns in bed, and given their post-sex discussions from a few weeks ago, it seemed like they’d found a dynamic that worked well for them. And as enjoyable as watching Eddie fuck himself on Richie’s dick was, Richie was finally ready to take that next step that he’d been thinking so much about and let Eddie return the favour. He trusted Eddie with every other aspect of their lives, and this was no different.

When Eddie returned in the late afternoon, Richie was doing their laundry. Eddie seemed to notice within minutes that Richie was lost in his own thoughts - quite possibly because he’d missed at least two chances to make a big dick joke and an opportunity to put on a Voice.

Eddie was in the kitchen preparing dinner while Richie folded their clothes, listening to Eddie chatter on about his day at work. Richie was only half focused on the clothes and half distracted by the strong lines of Eddie’s back and the curve of his ass where he was facing the stove, the way his biceps worked as he chopped vegetables, the exposed skin that appeared when he reached up to a high shelf. Richie knew that Eddie would probably ask if he was okay later, given how uncharacteristically quiet he was being, but he was just too busy thinking about getting railed by his tiny feisty boyfriend to even make a joke.

Richie only managed to take a few bites of dinner before he headed to the bathroom - he’d eaten before Eddie got home and cleaned himself up in preparation for tonight’s activities. He didn’t want anything stopping him or Eddie from going through with this tonight now that his nerves were mostly out of the way.

Soon, Eddie slipped into bed next to Richie and turned to face him. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet this evening. Did something happen while I was out?”

Richie shook his head and took off his glasses to place them on the nightstand. “No siree, all good over here. But, if I were feeling a tad bit less than okay, you know what would really make me feel better?”

“What?”

“Some good ol’ Spaghetti smooches.”

Eddie snorted. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but he leaned in to kiss him anyway.

Richie tilted his head and slotted their lips together straight away, bringing his hands up to cup Eddie’s jaw. He parted his lips and let his tongue slide alongside Eddie’s, eagerly exploring the inside of his mouth like he hadn’t already memorised the bumps and grooves of his teeth, and pushed forward to roll Eddie onto his back. Eddie made a soft noise at Richie’s sudden passion, gripping his waist and pulling their bodies flush together, but through their clothes, it wasn’t enough. Richie had been thinking about this all day and he needed it _now._

He pulled back so they were lying next to each other and rested his forehead against Eddie’s. “I know we didn’t get to celebrate my birthday properly because we were so focused on Derry and your mom… but I think I know what I wanna do.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Richie’s front teeth clamped down on his bottom lip and Eddie’s eyes darted down to watch the movement. “I want you to fuck me, Eds.”

“Oh.” Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Are you sure?” Richie nodded. “Oh, god, yes.”

Eddie surged up and pulled Richie in to capture his lips with his own, hands coming up to grip the sides of his face and licking into his mouth immediately. Richie’s eyes rolled back and he groaned, leaning back on his elbows and letting Eddie’s tongue slide all around his mouth however he pleased. Eddie kept leaning forward until he was hovering over Richie’s body, lips trailing down his jaw and neck to suck a deep bruise into his pale skin.

Richie’s back arched into the touch. “Eds, fuck, your intensity’s gonna make me bust a nut way too soon.”

Eddie just hummed against his skin, pushing the covers away so he could move to the other side of Richie’s neck and bite down there, too. He pulled back and stared Richie in the eye. “You will do no such thing. You’re not allowed to come until I say so.” Richie’s breath caught in his throat and all he could do was nod. “Good boy,” Eddie said. He gently touched Richie’s chest and gestured for him to lie back properly. Eddie pulled off his own shirt and tugged at the hem of Richie’s until he got the message, ducking down as soon as Richie was shirtless to swipe his tongue across his nipple.

Richie’s breath rushed out shakily and he let his head fall back, hips bucking up to press against whatever part of Eddie he could. Eddie moved across Richie’s chest to his other nipple, flicking his tongue across it a few times before continuing his descent down Richie’s body, nipping lightly at his stomach and hip bones. They got each other out of their pants as quickly as possible and then Richie was naked on his back again with Eddie sitting up next to his knees. Eddie took Richie’s cock in his hand, stroking him to full hardness, running his other hand up Richie’s calf and thigh, touching and squeezing like he thought Richie was something precious, something to be treasured. Richie ran his fingers through his own hair, locking them behind his head and looking down at Eddie as he moved his mouth across Richie’s stomach again.

“So beautiful,” Eddie whispered against his skin. “You don’t even realise how gorgeous you are, Richie. I’m so fucking lucky to have you.” Eddie turned his head to press a kiss at the base of Richie’s cock. “So perfect.” He slid his lips up Richie’s length and then sunk his mouth down.

“Fuck,” Richie groaned, dropping his head back against the pillows again.

Eddie moved to settle between Richie’s knees and started bobbing his head, now able to take Richie’s entire length in his mouth - an accomplishment of which he was quite proud. He trailed one hand up and down Richie’s inner thigh, the other resting slightly underneath Richie’s body and gripping his ass. Both of Richie’s legs were flat against the bed, and Eddie’s hand gently pushed at his knee until he brought his foot up and rested it on the bed beside Eddie’s shoulder. “Good, Rich,” Eddie pulled off to say. “Think you can do the other leg, too?”

At this point, Richie still hadn’t even fingered himself before, and suddenly even the prospect of opening his legs and letting Eddie settle properly between them - which he had done countless times before when going down on him - felt like such a daunting and confronting task.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie said quickly, clearly feeling the tension in Richie’s body. “We can go as slow as you want. We don’t have to do this.”

Richie thought about how many times he’d told Eddie he didn’t have to see his mom if he was unsure, how many times he said those exact words on the drive up to Derry - _we don’t have to do this_ \- and how sure Eddie was of himself, how confident he was when he knew what he wanted. Richie was just as sure that he wanted Eddie to fuck him, and he needed to express that desire just as clearly.

“I want to do this,” he told Eddie. “I really, really want you, Eds. I promise.”

Eddie nodded quickly. “Okay. Okay. How do you wanna do this?”

Richie propped his other leg up and let his knees fall down on either side of Eddie. He readjusted the pillow behind his back so he could see Eddie better. “Like this, please? I wanna see you.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Eddie said.

Richie’s chest warmed at the pet name. Eddie reached over to their nightstand and grabbed the bottle of lube, then settled between Richie’s legs and ducked his head down to kiss along his inner thighs. With each press of Eddie’s lips to his skin, Richie could feel his muscles relaxing. He shifted his hips and exhaled deeply. He trusted Eddie with his life and he knew he would make this good for them both. 

“So good, Richie,” Eddie murmured against his skin, lips now brushing along the crease where his pelvis met his upper thigh. One hand continued slowly jerking Richie off, the other moving under his thigh to squeeze his ass. Eddie’s thumb brushed against Richie’s perineum and Richie immediately tensed. “It’s okay,” Eddie whispered again. “I’ve got you.”

Richie let his eyes slip shut and his brain relax along with his body, allowing himself to fully open up to Eddie both physically and emotionally. He heard Eddie mumble something about touching him and he responded with a noise of affirmation, keeping his eyes closed and losing himself in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his skin. Eddie’s lubed finger gently touched Richie’s hole, and Richie didn’t tense up this time. He felt him rub his finger around in small circles and then push ever so slightly inside.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asked. “Talk to me.”

“Yeah,” Richie breathed.

“Good boy.” Eddie twisted his finger where it was down to the first knuckle, slid out and back in again until he could move it with ease. The second knuckle was more noticeable. Richie could feel Eddie’s heavy breaths against his cock as he continued to finger Richie open, mumbling non-stop praise into his skin. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Are you ready for a second finger?”

Richie’s eyes fluttered open and he managed to lift his head to look down at Eddie. “Mhm. Please.”

Eddie rewarded him by licking a stripe up his dick, bringing his arousal back where it had started to wane slightly. The lube cap snapped and the pressure of Eddie’s fingers returned, the unfamiliar stretch of two causing Richie’s muscles to tense. “Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” Eddie whispered.

He took his time working two fingers into Richie, adding more lube than probably necessary. He crooked his fingers and mumbled something about finding the right spot. Richie’s mind was half-dazed with the overwhelming feeling of Eddie inside him that he hardly realised he was being asked a question.

“Hm?”

“I said maybe you should turn over. It might be easier to find that way.”

Richie nodded slowly. He trusted Eddie to make him feel good, so he rolled over onto his stomach and rested his forearms under his head. The bottle cap popped again and Eddie easily slid two fingers into Richie after taking his time working him open so well. He twisted his wrist and crooked his fingers and Richie’s body jolted as he let out his first real moan.

“Oh my god,” Richie breathed, turning his head to look at Eddie, who was watching him with blown-out pupils and parted lips. “Do that again.”

“Mm, don’t forget who’s in charge here,” Eddie teased, but he crooked his fingers again and rubbed them right against Richie’s prostate.

Richie’s hips jerked against the bed. “Oh god, oh _fuck.”_ He felt Eddie shift and lean down to press kisses along the base of his spine, changing the angle of his fingers again so that he hit that spot inside him with every thrust. Richie’s eyes squeezed shut as his mouth dropped open around a loud moan and his hips twitched between wanting to press Eddie’s fingers deeper inside him and wanting to grind down onto the bed until he came. “Fuck, fuck, Eds.”

“How does it feel?” Eddie asked him, accentuating his question with a slightly rougher thrust of his fingers. Richie whimpered in response. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Feels good, Eds.” He lifted his head, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, and turned to look at Eddie. “It actually feels really fucking good.” The smile Eddie gave him made his stomach swoop with affection and arousal. “Can you— can I have another?”

“God, Rich, of course you can.” Eddie retrieved the lube again and pulled his fingers out, quickly returning with three. It only took a few more minutes until Richie stopped feeling the burn and was rocking against the bed, soft whimpers falling out of his mouth with every thrust of Eddie’s fingers, reaching deep inside of him. “Okay,” Eddie said eventually. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to finger you some more?”

Richie managed to shake his head, chest heaving against the bed. “No, _please,_ I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready, Eds, please fuck me.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie almost sounded as nervous as Richie had felt earlier, but right now he just needed Eddie inside of him as soon as possible. “I think staying in this position would be easiest. To start with, at least.”

Richie nodded his agreement because he couldn’t get his mouth to form more words and he trusted Eddie completely.

“Okay. I’m gonna put on a condom so we don’t have to worry about cleaning up,” Eddie told him and got up. The bed dipped a few moments later as Eddie settled behind him. “Here, sweetheart, lift up.”

Richie obediently lifted his hips and let Eddie push a pillow beneath them, trying his hardest not to grind down against it. “Eddie,” he said.

“I’m right here, Richie.” Eddie placed a kiss at the base of Richie’s neck as he grabbed a handful of Richie’s ass and lined himself up with his hole. “You ready?”

“Mhm. Please, Eds.”

Eddie pushed in slowly and Richie tensed instinctively at the first sign of intrusion, exhaling deeply to relax his muscles and let Eddie inside. Eddie rocked back and forth slightly, sliding in a few inches deeper each time, until he was fully seated inside Richie. He let out a shaky breath near Richie’s shoulder, rested his forehead against his sweaty skin.

“Fuck, Rich. You’re so _hot,”_ Eddie breathed.

Richie whimpered, fought to keep his hips still and not jerk into or away from the full, stretched feeling of Eddie’s cock buried inside him. “Please move,” was all he could manage to say.

Eddie pulled out almost as slowly as he’d gone in, thrusting gently so that his hips just touched Richie’s ass each time, not hard enough for the usual _slap_ of skin-on-skin.

“Eddie,” Richie breathed.

Eddie took that as an urge to move faster, because he shifted his weight and grasped Richie’s ass with one hand, like he was holding him open and watching himself disappear inside Richie’s body.

“Eddie,” he said again, like it was the only word he knew anymore. Sharp jolts of arousal soared through him every time the tip of Eddie’s cock rubbed against his prostate, and he could hardly stop himself from grinding down into the pillow beneath him. “Eddie, Eddie, _Eddie—”_

“I’ve got you, Rich. You’re so good, sweetheart.”

Tears gathered behind Richie’s closed eyes when Eddie tilted his hips again so that each thrust pressed inside him _just right._ “Oh, oh fuck, _fuck.”_ Strong hands gripped onto his hips and hoisted him up onto his hands and knees, one hand then sliding into his hair and tugging. _“Eddie,_ fuck, fuck, that feels so good, oh my god.”

“Yeah? Tell me how good.”

“So fucking good, Eds. I’m— _fuck,_ I feel like I could come just like this.”

Eddie’s groan morphed into a low growl and Richie’s eyes rolled back as he started thrusting even harder, hips slapping against Richie’s ass now loud and sharp in the room. Richie’s hands scrambled to grab onto the headboard and Eddie tugged harder at his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp. He could feel the familiar heat growing low in his abdomen and Eddie did not let up as he fucked harder into him. Richie’s jaw dropped open after a particularly harsh thrust and the high-pitched whimper he let out was a noise he didn’t even know he was capable of making. The back of his eyes burned with tears again. He was physically and emotionally overwhelmed with the sensation of Eddie all over, love blooming deep in his chest and arousal in his core.

“Eddie,” Richie whined, tears spilling over as he fell apart beneath Eddie’s hands. “I’m close.”

All of a sudden, Eddie stopped moving, and then Richie was being flipped over onto his back.

“I wanna see you come,” Eddie explained, hiking Richie’s legs around his waist like he weighed nothing and sliding back into him. Richie’s head fell forward against Eddie’s and his eyes screwed up, cheeks hot and wet where Eddie started kissing them. “You’re so beautiful, Richie.”

Richie nearly sobbed. “It’s so much, Eds. So good—” he quickly clarified before Eddie could stop, “—just so much, too, _fuck._ It’s like I can— _oh—_ like I can feel you in my bones, somehow. _Fuck,_ I’m so close.”

His brows pinched together and he forced his eyes open to look at Eddie. Richie’s jaw went slack and he stopped talking, eyes losing focus as he felt his orgasm building. Another wave of tears rolled down his cheeks that Eddie kissed away, and then Eddie’s lips were on his.

“I’m gonna come,” Eddie breathed against his mouth. “Come on, sweetheart, you’ve been such a good boy. Come for me. I love you so much.”

Eddie’s hand wrapped around Richie’s cock and it took two strokes before he was coming, body shaking and his orgasm wracked through him. Richie arched off the bed and cried out Eddie’s name again, eyes rolled back in his head. He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders as he fucked him through his orgasm and came shortly after, shuddering in Richie’s arms with a groan in his ear. Richie’s body twitched with sensitivity and he collapsed after the endorphin high, melting into the bed and into Eddie’s embrace.

Richie wasn’t sure how much time passed before Eddie crawled back into bed behind him and snaked his arm around his torso. He might have fallen asleep or passed out from the physical and mental exhaustion. He managed to roll over to face Eddie.

“Hi,” Richie said.

“Hi yourself.” Eddie leaned in to kiss him gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Fuckin’ exhausted. Getting fucked sure takes a lot out of you.”

Eddie snorted. “God, I love you something stupid.”

“It’s me, I’m the stupid.”

“No, you’re not. You’re incredible, Rich.” Eddie took Richie’s hands in his and brought them up to kiss his knuckles. “And handsome, and funny, and clever, and so much more than I deserve.”

“Eds…”

“I really don’t say it enough. I love you with all of my heart and I feel so lucky to have you.”

Richie sniffled. He very nearly slipped into his Southern Belle, but he recalled Eddie telling him off for using Voices during serious conversations, so he refrained. “And I you, Spaghetti.” He couldn’t resist the nickname, though.

Eddie just rolled his eyes and kissed Richie’s hands again. “So. What now? We left Derry and ran away to New York to go to the college of our dreams. We got our shit together and told each other how we feel. I confronted my mom and you made up with yours. All of our friends know about us. You finally let me fuck you.” Richie snorted this time. “What’s next for us?”

“I dunno, Eds. We just see where life takes us, I suppose. Whatever next great adventure dear old New York has in store. Maybe Ben and Bev’ll get married. Maybe the sky will fall on top of us in the night. Who the fuck knows?” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hands. “But as long as you agree to continue letting me practice my Voices, I’m perfectly content to lie here with you until the end of time.”

The small huff of a laugh Eddie let out was more fond than anything. “Just you and me, huh? Trashmouth and Spaghetti, the dream team.”

Richie’s eyes widened. “You called yourself Spaghetti!”

“And I’m already regretting my decision immensely.”

“Shut up, I’m so in love with you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie leaned in for another kiss. “You’re not half bad yourself, dipshit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed this chapter! As I said in my author's note on tumblr, I'll be finishing this fic before the end of this year because I promised myself I would and I'm this close. I do read all of your comments, even if I don't always respond. Thank you so much for sticking by me and reading this silly little story <3


	20. You heard me, Rich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (An epilogue of sorts)
> 
> June - August 1996. Eddie and Richie have found their family and themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. Fifteen months in the making, over a year of posting (with a bit of a break, I’ll give you that), and we’re finally at the end of this monstrosity of a fic. I don’t even know how to thank all the people who commented on each chapter, who messaged me on tumblr, who’ve become my friends and stuck by me this whole time. I am so grateful for every single person who clicked on my story, every single time the hit counter went up, every single kudos notification I got, and I just wish I could thank you more. This is the end of Richie and Eddie’s story in this universe, but I have no doubt that I’ll continue writing them in many other lifetimes (I sort of have two fics in the making right now, with a couple of chapters already up if anyone wants to check those out).
> 
> Also, kudos to my amazing friend Katrina for giving me some fantastic material to use for Richie’s standup. She is way funnier than I could ever dream of being and I just needed to give her a shout out for being an awesome friend.
> 
> Anyway, here is the very long awaited final chapter of my runaways fic, as I affectionately refer to it on tumblr. To every single person reading this, take this author’s note as a virtual hug for encouraging my crazy ramblings. Enjoy <3

“Here, let me write down our phone number—”

“Richie, come on, we’re gonna be late.”

“One sec, Eds, we’re nearly done.”

“Oh, sorry, we wouldn’t want to keep you guys—”

“No, no, it’s fine, Eds is just a little angry cat sometimes, that’s all.”

_ “Richie,” _ Eddie scolded him, stepping forward to see what he and his new friends were doing. “We have somewhere to be. You said you were nearly done.”

He peered over Richie’s shoulder, careful not to get colourful spray paint on his chin where Richie had decided to paint rainbows all over his denim jacket for the pride parade. The group they’d befriended were each scribbling their phone numbers on Richie’s arm, some still chatting about their sexuality awakenings from earlier. Eddie didn’t know how he’d been persuaded to join such a conversation when it had been Richie’s friends who’d introduced them to this new group of non-straight people. Eddie’s cheeks had flushed hot and pink when he’d relayed the story of wet Richie at the quarry in front of Alex and Lily who  _ knew _ Richie, let alone all these strangers. But their warm, open faces, their cheerful laughter and wide smiles, it all made Eddie feel so much at home that he couldn’t stop talking about his and Richie’s story. Although, when Lily decided to tell everyone about the way they accidentally came out to each other, the laughter in the group definitely had a more teasing tone. Even Richie blushed at their own stupidity.

“There,” one of the boys declared, capping the pen and slipping it back into Richie’s jacket pocket. “Be sure to call us next time you guys wanna shoot the shit about straight people.” The guy grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and turned away with a wink, heading back to the heart of the parade behind the Stonewall car. Eddie, in turn, took Richie’s clean hand, pulling him in the direction of where they were headed.

“Bye, guys!” Richie waved behind them at their new friends. “Well, Spagheds, are you happy we came to Pride?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I was the one who suggested it, idiot. Remember? Like last Christmas or something. I said I’d make sure you met some other bisexual people so you didn’t feel so alone. So, the question is whether  _ you _ had a good time.”

“‘Course I did, Eds. And you were right, as always; I’m already looking forward to talking shit about the heteros next time we hang with those guys.”

Eddie snorted. “You know, like, all of our friends are straight, right?”

“Yeah, they’re really not.”

“You’re right, I’m pretty sure I saw Bev checking out the waitress last time they came up here to visit.”

“Exactly. Our whole group is probably a little bit gay. Why else would we be such close friends?”

Eddie hummed and leaned into Richie’s side as they walked. “Not Bill, surely.”

Richie tutted. “It’s always the closeted ones who complain the most, Eds. You know how you used to be. Oh, maybe your mom is secretly a lesbian!”

Eddie gagged. “What the fuck?”

“Or, what if, and hear me out, what if your  _ dad _ was gay and your mom found out and that’s why she hates you so much?”

Eddie nearly stopped walking. “That’s so not funny, Richie.”

“I know, I know. Your dad would probably be super proud of you, actually.”

“You think? It’s not like you knew him, though.”

“Well, from where I’m standing, all of your good traits came from somewhere, and it sure as shit wasn’t from Sonia, so it must’ve been Frank. I think he’d be happy for you, where you are in your life right now. He left you all that money for college, didn’t he? He’d be so proud, Eds.”

Eddie clutched Richie’s arm tighter and rested his head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Rich. I certainly hope so.”

Richie pressed a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head as they slowed to a stop. “Whoa,” Richie said when he realised where Eddie had taken them. He let go of his arm and whipped around to face him. “What are we doing at a tattoo parlour?”

Eddie’s teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. “You know,” he began, voice soft, “I told you once that I wanted that Loser-Lover as a tattoo. And watching you grow into yourself in the past couple of years has been so inspiring to me, that I figured I was ready to take the plunge and just  _ do it.” _

“But, Eds,” Richie cautioned, “What about the needles?”

Eddie just shook his head. “Needles are not inherently bad. And you’re not going to leave my side or let go of my hand, so I’ll be fine.”

Richie stared at him for a moment, lips parted and eyes slightly wide with surprise. Eddie nearly squirmed under his gaze. “Wow,” Richie breathed. “I’ve said it before, but your bravery never ceases to amaze me, Spaghetti.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again, but he could feel his cheeks burning. “Shut up. Let’s go inside.”

It was somehow much better and ten times worse than he was expecting, but he focused on the feeling of Richie’s hand gripping his, pretended that he wasn’t digging his nails into Richie’s palm, and kept his eyes squeezed shut for the entire duration of his appointment. Soon enough, Eddie was releasing Richie’s hand and looking down into a mirror at his chest to see his cast’s artwork immortalised on his skin, right over his heart.

Eddie looked over to see Richie making some kind of fond, pouting face at him. “I’m so proud of you,” Richie whispered, lips slightly twisted like he was trying not to cry. Eddie couldn’t believe how emotional the boy was now that he wasn’t constantly trying to mask his feelings with stupid jokes. “It’s perfect, Eds. Don’t you think?”

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah,” he whispered back, dragging his eyes away from Richie’s face to look back down at the mirror and admire his new tattoo. “I’m happy I did it. I love it.”

* * *

Eddie was still standing in the kitchen when Richie got back inside the apartment. He rushed up behind him and flung his arms around his waist, scooped him up and swung him around in a hug that was rather energetic considering it was so early in the morning. 

“Richie!” Eddie shrieked, “Put me down!”

“No can do, Eds! The cute police are here to arrest you for being too damn adorable. I simply cannot go on like this!” Richie dramatically fell to the floor and wrapped himself around Eddie’s legs, who nearly toppled over in his attempts to remain standing with Richie attached to him. Richie pressed his face into Eddie’s thigh. “Cute, cute, cute! And also a little sexy. My little sexy firecracker.”

Richie couldn’t see him, but he was sure Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“I do,” Eddie replied, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Why are you so excited after getting the mail?”

“Oh!” Richie jumped up and flashed the piece of paper in front of Eddie, beaming. “Look what Tisch sent me!”

Eddie examined the letter. “Oh, wow, Rich, that’s amazing! See, I told you the talent scouts would love you.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna audition for a real off-Broadway show, Eds! What monologue should I do? Do you think I should sing, too?”

“You might need to practice your singing a bit more,” Eddie muttered playfully. His face softened and he smiled at Richie. “Look at us - me with my summer internship and you off-Broadway… I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

Richie’s grin widened until his cheeks burned. He tossed the mail on the counter next to their empty coffee cups and stepped back into Eddie’s space, sliding his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie’s hands settled on his hips.

“Oh, ya are, are ya? Well I’ll be. Here I was, thinkin’ I’d have to seduce ya back into bed, but now I’m thinkin’ I deserve some kinda reward fer bein’ so gosh darn talented.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows and then his hips. “What do ya say, Dr. K? I think I might need a— a colonoscopy or somethin’ from a very handsome young man such as yerself.”

Eddie grimaced. “If you don’t stop referring to sex with weird medical terms, I’m never going to have sex with you again.”

Richie clapped his hands theatrically on his cheeks, continuing with the Southern Belle. “Oh, you’d never! Why, my dear Spaghetti, how dare you—”

“And what did I say about Voices in the bedroom?”

Richie tutted, but he dropped the Voice. “Although that’s where we’re heading, right now we’re technically still in the kitchen.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed but his lips betrayed him, twitching up into a fond smirk. “Touché.” He stood up on his toes to kiss Richie, gripping his waist tighter and pulling him against him. Richie went easily, melting against his chest. He pressed Eddie into the counter and used their height difference to crowd against him, tilting his head as their lazy kisses slowly built up into something more passionate.

Richie hummed against Eddie's mouth. “Is it weird that I like your morning kisses?”

“A little,” Eddie snorted. “You’re normally pretty gross though, so I’m hardly surprised.”

“So rude to me.” Richie kissed him again. “Come on, Eds, you gonna fuck me or what?”

“Oh, you were serious about that?”

“When am I not serious about sex?”

“Fair enough.” Eddie tapped Richie’s ass. “Let’s go then. I wanted to look at that new electricity company today and it’s already eleven o’clock.”

“Sir yes sir.” Richie scrambled out of Eddie’s arms and grabbed his hand to pull him towards the bedroom. He pointed at the bed. “I’m probably still a little stretched from yesterday so you just sit here and I’ll hop on.”

Eddie snorted. “Wow, you’re so romantic,” he teased. He stripped and settled on the bed while Richie searched for wherever they’d lost the lube in their haste yesterday. He found it on the floor, quickly got out of his clothes, and crawled onto the bed in front of Eddie’s stretched out legs.

“Come here, Spaghetti, let me kiss you.”

Eddie smiled into the kiss, hands coming up to hold Richie’s waist again as he folded his legs under himself and settled into Eddie’s lap. Eddie ran his hands up Richie’s back and tangled his fingers in his hair. Richie hummed as they grinded together lazily, trading kisses, before he pulled back to take his glasses off. He squeezed out some lube and took both of their half-hard cocks in his hand.

“What happened to making this quick?” Eddie breathed.

“Hey, you’re the one whose dick needs to be hard for this to work.” Richie ducked down to kiss along Eddie’s neck, biting gently and sucking, drawing a soft moan from Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s cock jumped in Richie’s hand. “Atta boy, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie scolded him, tugging harshly where his hand was still in Richie’s hair. “I could make you fall apart in three seconds if I wanted to.” Eddie’s other hand rested on top of Richie’s, twisting his wrist as they both jerked him off together. He let go of Richie’s curls and scraped his nails down Richie’s back, moving his hand from his dick, now covered in lube, around behind Richie.

Richie didn’t tense at all when Eddie squeezed his ass and easily slid two fingers into him. He moaned and rocked back into the touch, dropping his forehead onto Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s lips trailed up his neck as his fingers pressed deep inside him, barely grazing his prostate and leaving him whining for more.

“Eds,  _ please.” _

Eddie chuckled. “You sound so pretty, Rich. C’mere, kiss me.”

Richie obeyed easily, lifting his head to crash his mouth against Eddie’s and lick his way inside. Eddie crooked his fingers a few times and rubbed directly against that spot inside him, making Richie gasp and whimper into his mouth. His hips jerked forward, cock brushing against where his hand was still wrapped around Eddie’s dick. Richie moaned.

“Come on, Eds, put that spaghetti noodle inside of me, pronto.”

Eddie quickly moved to comply with Richie’s stupidly phrased request, withdrawing his fingers from his hole and lining his cock up instead. “Well,  _ you _ come on then,” Eddie said. “If you’re so desperate to be fucked, then fuck yourself on my dick.”

Richie whined as Eddie leaned back and rested his hands behind his head, leaving his cock pressed against Richie’s hole, but not yet pushing inside. Richie reached behind himself to hold Eddie against him and lowered his hips slowly, reveling in each inch that entered his body. His eyes rolled back and his mouth went slack like it did every time Eddie topped him. When he was completely settled in Eddie’s lap, hips pressed flush together and cock aching where it was trapped between their bodies, Richie’s eyes fluttered open and he looked down at Eddie.

“So, what was that electricity thing you wanted to talk about?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. “You wanna talk about it  _ now?” _ he asked, emphasising the last word with a jerk of his hips.

Richie’s hum morphed into a soft moan. “Yeah, why not?” He raised his body until just the head of Eddie’s cock was inside him, then rolled his hips down again, setting a steady pace. “Kill two birds with one sto— _oh_ —ne.”

“Hm.” Eddie’s hands settled on Richie’s hips as he bounced up and down on his lap. “Well, we got a letter the other day, asking—  _ fuck— _ asking if we were happy with our utility provider.” His fingers dug into Richie’s skin.  _ “God. _ I think we should consider switching to this other company. I do— _oh_ —n’t remember the name, but they were offering a better deal.”

Richie nodded. “Uh huh. Sure, Eds. You’re in charge of our finance—” He was cut off when Eddie planted his feet on the bed and started fucking up into him hard and fast. “Fuck, fuck, oh,  _ shit, _ Eddie, that’s not fair.” Eddie was smirking at him. “You’re such a shit.”

As if to scold him, Eddie’s hips met his with a particularly rough thrust, pulling a loud moan from deep within Richie’s chest.

“Anyway, it’s something we need to do soon, possibly today,” Eddie continued, somehow. “Think you can call the new company and get it organised?”

“Yeah, whatever you want, Eds. Fuck, please touch me, I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Eddie sounded far too cocky for someone who was balls deep inside him right now. “So good, so gorgeous, Richie,” he breathed.

_ “Please,” _ Richie whimpered.

One of Eddie’s hands finally slipped between their bodies to wrap around Richie’s cock, the other sliding up to yank at his hair. “But you were the one who wanted to talk about this right now.”

Richie whined. “Uh huh. Sounds like you have it all work— oh god, I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck,  _ fuck, Eddie.” _ Richie tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s, swallowing his moan as he came in hot, thick stripes all over Eddie’s hand. He bucked up into the touch and jerked his hips in tiny circular motions, his body protesting the overstimulation, until Eddie was panting and groaning into his neck and coming, too.

Sometimes Richie felt bad that Eddie was always the one to clean them up, no matter who was fucking who, because apparently sex tired Richie out far too much for him to even consider moving for several minutes after he’d shot his load. When Eddie finally settled back down next to him, he trailed his fingers up Richie’s arm, along his collarbones, and hummed quietly to himself.

“What’s up, Eds?” Richie asked.

Eddie brought his other hand up to push Richie’s sweaty bangs from his forehead, fingers brushing gently against his skin. He tucked his hair behind his ear and trailed his fingertips along his jaw. “I… God,  _ Richie.” _

Richie felt a soft flush climb up his neck to his face, tinted cheeks warming under Eddie’s hand. Eddie’s eyes fluttered, glancing back and forth between Richie’s. “Eds?”

“I just… I really love you, Rich,” Eddie whispered. “I still sometimes think about what you said to my mom when we went to visit. It surprised me so much. You just… exceeded all of my expectations.” He smiled fondly and brushed his thumb along Richie’s cheekbone. “You’ve always made me feel safe and loved, even when my mom didn’t, even when I didn’t even know that’s what I was feeling.”

Richie wasn’t sure why Eddie was thinking about that now, right after sex, but he wasn’t going to protest against such sweet words. He sniffled, eyes beginning to prickle with tears. “Eddie, please, you’re gonna make me sob like a big baby.”

Eddie just laughed, his own eyes slightly damp. “Nope, it’s my turn to be emotional.”

He ran his fingertips along Richie’s skin, touching all of the freckles on his cheeks, the remnants of stubble at the base of his jaw. He brushed Richie’s full, soft lips, his dark, swooping eyelashes, his fuzzy eyebrows. He pressed his thumb into the space between his brows, smoothing the skin there where Richie was still frowning. Richie’s breath hitched.

“So beautiful,” Eddie whispered. He leaned in and kissed him, the soft brush of warm lips against his, so gentle that Richie thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest with the sheer amount of love he felt radiating from Eddie.

Richie pulled back and knocked his forehead against Eddie’s. “You’re it for me, Eds. You know that, right? It’s always just… been you.”

Eddie nodded and ran his fingers through Richie’s hair. “You’re it for me, too.” Eddie closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, teeth sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Richie watched him closely as Eddie’s eyes fluttered open again and he looked deep into Richie’s. “Marry me,” Eddie said. “One day, when it’s legal, you know? Marry me.”

Richie could have sworn he forgot how to breathe. Eddie’s eyes bored into his, the corners crinkled with affection, and Richie’s heart stuttered in his chest. He wondered, briefly, what his sixteen-year-old self would have said if he’d known this was the direction his life was headed in a few years’ time. He never could have predicted Eddie would feel this way about him. For the longest time, he’d been terrified that all of their friends would hate him if they found out the truth, and the idea of Eddie knowing that Richie was in love with him was something he refused to let himself think about. Yet, here he was, with Eddie in his arms, basically proposing to him. Richie’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Would I be Richie Kaspbrak or would you be Eddie Tozier?” he asked.

The smile that took over Eddie’s face was blinding and he surged forward, flung his arms around Richie’s neck and rolled him over to kiss him. Richie laughed into the kiss, squeezing Eddie wherever his hands landed on his body. His heart fluttered in his chest as Eddie pulled back and nuzzled his nose against him.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asked, eyes sparkling.

“Was that a real proposal? What, no ring or nothin’?”

Eddie smacked him lightly on the arm. “Shut up. Just because I’ve been thinking about it doesn’t mean I actually considered buying a ring, yet.”

“You’ve… been thinking about it? You’ve been thinking about us getting married?”

Eddie shrugged. “Well, yeah. I told you, Rich - you’re  _ it _ for me. Of course I’ve been thinking about us getting married someday.”

Richie’s eyes softened. “Then of course it’s a yes, Eddie. I love you more than life itself.” He looked up to the corner and frowned, making it out like was thinking hard about something. “Since you proposed to me, does that mean I have to wear a wedding dress?”

Eddie snorted. “You’re—”

“Ridiculous, so you keep saying. I tell you what - I’ll wear a wedding dress to our wedding if you wear lacy panties so that your ass looks even more fantastic in your trousers.”

Eddie just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Okay, babe. Now, come on, it’s getting late. We have shit to do.”

“Wait, Eds, we haven’t even discussed our surname! Are we gonna hyphenate? Eddie and Richie Kaspbrak-Tozier is such a fuckin’ mouthful. And you know, since I’m so famous in the comedy world, I couldn’t  _ possibly _ change my name completely. So I guess that leaves just Tozier. Eddie Tozier sounds mighty cute, don’t you think?”

Eddie looked at him seriously for a moment, like he was genuinely considering what Richie was rambling about. “For a while, I thought I’d want to abandon my name because of my mom, but I think I’d actually like to keep it. Make Kaspbrak my own, you know?”

Richie wasn’t quite sure he did, but he nodded anyway.

“And now that she really has no hold on me anymore, the last thing I want to do is give up this part of me that’s been with me my whole life, just because it reminds me of her.  _ Of course _ it reminds me of her. She’s my  _ mom. _ Even if I never see her again, she’s still going to be a part of me, and I’ve accepted that. So, I know you were just joking around, but I really would like to keep my name, if we can come to some kind of agreement around that.”

Richie sat up and placed his hand over Eddie’s. “That sounds perfect. I would  _ love _ to be Richie Kaspbrak.”

“Really? You don’t want to hyphenate?”

“In all honesty, Eddie, the fact that I get to marry you is enough. I don’t care what my license says or who the mail is addressed to. And I was joking, but I can still keep my stage name as Tozier. If I get to be yours and you get to be mine… I’ll take whatever name you want.”

Eddie’s brows pinched together and he leaned in to kiss Richie softly. “You’re amazing. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, mister fianc é .” Richie wiggled his eyebrows. “Eddie and Richie Kaspbrak, hm? It certainly has a nice ring to it.”

“It does,” Eddie agreed. He glanced at the clock on their nightstand. “Now we  _ have _ to get up. It’s almost lunchtime and we’ve done fuck all today.”

“We’ve  _ fucked _ today, is that not accomplishment enough? And discussed our future wedding.”

“We need to call the electric company.”

“We also need to go to the store because I’m pretty sure we’re out of milk for my coffee.”

“Out of—? Richie! How could you let it get so low? What’s the point of having a list stuck on the fridge if you never write on it?”

Eddie got up and pulled on his pants as he walked out of the room, chattering endlessly about the things they had to do today. Richie watched him go, a fond smile ever present on his face. He was going to get to listen to that adorable rambling for the rest of his life.

* * *

Eddie was on the phone to Bill, trying to convince all the Losers that it was a good idea to come up to New York City the next weekend when Richie was trying out his new set at The Ponyboy. Eddie had heard him practising countless times, despite him saying it was supposed to be a surprise, and he was unbelievably proud of how far Richie had come in being open about himself in front of friends and strangers.

Richie was flipping aimlessly through television channels while he waited for Eddie to finish up on the phone and Eddie was sure there was something else he could have been doing instead of lazing around on the couch. He waved his arm around until he got Richie’s attention and then pointed at the kitchen where there were clean dishes that needed to be put away. But Richie shook his head and gestured at the television. Eddie rolled his eyes.

When he finally put down the phone, Eddie spun around to glare at Richie. “What are you even doing?”

“Oh, Eds, you have to see this. I just saw a commercial for a new animal shelter that’s opening up a few blocks away.”

“Okay. And?”

Richie blanched as if Eddie were asking the dumbest question in the world. “And?! Didn’t you used to always say you wanted a dog?”

“I mean, maybe? My mom told me I was allergic and that was probably a lie.”

“Exactly! So we should get a dog then! It is our anniversary soon.”

Eddie’s eyebrows flew up on his forehead. “The fact that you think that’s a viable option given our circumstances is nearly as outrageous as the thought of  _ you _ taking care of another living creature when you hardly remember to  _ tie your shoelaces.” _

Richie snorted. “Jeez, Eds, no need to be so harsh on your  _ fiancé.” _

“Oh no, no. You do  _ not _ get to pull out that card, Richard. We are  _ not _ engaged until at least one of us buys the other a ring. And that won’t change my mind, either. If you blow our savings on an engagement ring to persuade me to get us a dog, I’m kicking you out.”

Richie tutted. “Okay, but consider this - we name it Stan.”

Eddie was trying to appear annoyed, but his face betrayed him, the corners of his lips twitching up into an amused smile. Richie, of course, noticed immediately, and he jumped up and threw his hands in the air. 

“Yes! He shoots and he scores!” His commentator Voice was getting better and better. “The crowd goes wild! Richie Kaspbrak wins again! Whoo!”

Eddie shook his head fondly, not even bothering to hide his smile. “No dogs, Rich. Not now, at least. Maybe in the future we can get a small one and call it Stan because— okay, that’s fuckin’ hilarious.”

“Aha! I always knew you secretly found me funny.” Richie sauntered over to Eddie and slipped an arm around his waist.

“It’s no secret anymore.”

“Oh, baby, it’s never been a secret.”

Eddie scowled, but he let Richie pull him in for a kiss anyway.

All of their friends managed to come to New York on the day of Richie’s show. Eddie spent the afternoon rushing around like an insane person - Richie’s words, not his - trying to get everything organised before they all met up for dinner.

“What time are the girls getting there, again?”

“Seven-thirty because Lily finishes work at seven,” Richie drawled. “And Bev and Ben will drive down by six-thirty and Bill and Audra probably won’t make it to dinner because of when their flight gets in but will meet us outside the restaurant around eight-thirty. Everyone else will meet us at the restaurant at quarter past six.” 

“Okay, okay.” Eddie spun around and continued pacing in front of the couch. “And the booking was under your name, right? I know  _ I _ was the one who called but—”

“Eds, hey, hey, come here.” Richie’s arm shot out and he grabbed Eddie’s hand. “Hey, it’s okay, relax. It’s my show and I’m not stressing, so you don’t need to stress for me. It’s gonna be okay.” Richie tugged until Eddie turned to face him, then pulled him into his lap on the couch. Eddie tucked his legs underneath himself and allowed Richie’s fingers to caress him into a state of calmness. “We got this. We organised everything days ago and everyone’s getting here exactly when they said they’d be.”

Eddie wasn’t sure when or how Richie had learned to be so level headed in times of stress, but he was sure glad for it at that moment.

As expected, they were finishing up their group dinner just before eight-thirty and would have plenty of time to drive across to The Ponyboy.

“I’m assuming Richie’s comedic delivery has improved in the last year or two,” Stan was saying. “Or are we to be subjected to yet another night of inappropriate dad jokes and digs at Eddie’s mom?”

“Eddie’s dad, too, perhaps,” Patty added. Beverly snorted.

“Oh, Pats, didn’t Stanthony tell you? Eddie’s dad is no longer with us,” Richie said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s okay, I’ll take Stan’s dad instead. Or Stan’s dad can  _ take _ me.”

Mike groaned around his forkful. “That’s gross.”

“Is it, Michael? Is this homophobia I smell? In my good Christian village?”

“No, Richard,” Stan drawled, “It’s just that some of us would prefer not to think about our parents fucking our friends.”

_ “Please, _ we’d put on a show. Eddie’s mom, Stanley’s dad, me, maybe Eddie on the side watch—”

“Okay!” Ben cut in, “Beep beep, Richie.”

Travis and Katie started giggling with each other. “It’s strange to hear people other than Eddie say that phrase,” Katie said.

“It’s strange to think that Richie has so many friends that have stuck by him this long,” Alex added with a snicker.

Richie slapped a hand over his chest. “Ouch. What’s with you all today? Thought it was just Spaghetti’s job to be rude to me, but alas, none of you can compete with my charm and stellar personality, so you resort to such heresy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbled, “You’re all stealing my thunder.”

“You b-b-bring it upon yourself, Ri-Richie.”

Half of the group turned in their seats to see Bill and Audra walking up behind the table.

“Billiam! You guys made it!” Richie jumped out of his chair and flung his arms around Bill’s shoulders, nearly knocking him off his feet. Richie turned to Audra and kissed her hand. “Milady.”

“I’ve never gotten this kind of treatment that she and Patty have,” Lily muttered.

“Aw, you and Bev are just one of the boys, Dennys. Consider it a compliment.”

“You’re never bumming a cigarette off of me ever again,” Beverly said.

Eddie’s watch started beeping as his eight-thirty alarm went off, signifying that they needed to leave. They passed the address around and agreed to follow behind Eddie and Richie’s car for the short drive. Once they were on the road, Eddie reached one arm across the middle console to pat Richie on the knee.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? We were all kind of… relentless back there with the teasing.”

“Yeah, dude,” Richie replied easily. “I know it’s all in jest and that they do like me, otherwise they wouldn’t have wasted all this time and money to haul their asses to New York.” Eddie saw Richie turn to face him in his peripheral vision. “I don’t take it to heart anymore, I promise. My therapist says it’s a major improvement.”

Eddie smiled, some of the weight on his chest easing off. “I’m glad. And don’t worry, I’ll counterbalance the teasing with plenty of compliments later tonight, if you’re up for more fun.”

“More fun than this morning? Wow, Eds, you sure know how to spoil a guy.”

The Ponyboy was busier that night than any other time Richie had performed, which he hadn’t since they’d returned from Derry - college sophomore finals really took a lot out of both of them. With all the Losers and their New York friends in tow, they’d had to reserve a table, and they were luckily seated in the centre of the venue. Stan, Patty and Mike went to order drinks for everyone while Eddie took Richie sidestage and attempted to hype him up. He let Richie drag him in for a long but soft kiss right as the host called out Richie’s name (pronounced correctly this time), and then joined the others back at the table.

There was a decent crowd that showed up every single month for the comedy performances and several groups of friends that always cheered Richie on, and tonight was no exception. As Richie walked onto the stage, Eddie cupped his hands around his mouth and whooped loudly, as did a few others at their table. Richie shot finger guns and a wink in their general direction and took the microphone out of the stand. He fiddled with the cord for a moment, before strolling across to one side of the stage. Richie, Eddie had noticed before, had grown to be substantially more comfortable on stage since his first set, but it wasn’t until Eddie glanced around at their group of friends and saw every single person’s eyes glued to the man in the spotlight that he realised just how far Richie had come, and how impressive his growth as a performer was.

“So, for my birthday,” Richie started saying, “My boyfriend got me these over-ear headphones I’d been wanting for months. So thoughtful, right? But the thing is, I wanted the bright orange ones and he got me standard black. Now that might seem like a safe choice, but  _ no, _ we forget who we’re talking about here!” Richie gestured down at his body, drawing attention to the pink and red floral shirt, graphic t-shirt and green sneakers he was wearing. Eddie heard Beverly chuckle next to him. “Naturally, I wanted an exchange or refund for the gift. So I called up the company and explained my predicament. I said ‘hey, my boyfriend got me the wrong headphones and I was wondering if I could return it.’ And they said yes, of course, if I have the original packaging and receipt and I said ‘no, I meant the boyfriend.’”

Eddie barked out a laugh as Mike clapped him on the back and Beverly leaned into his side, giggling. He saw the sparkle in Richie’s eyes that appeared every time people laughed at his jokes - every time, without fail, as if he still couldn’t believe strangers genuinely found him entertaining. Eddie had spent enough time shooting Richie’s jokes down as a child and teenager and although their bickering was a core aspect of their relationship (and he wouldn’t lie; he  _ loved _ it), he was planning to spend the rest of his life telling Richie how hilarious and amazing he was.

“No, but actually, it’s amazing I ever even came out of the closet because  _ that _ was the guy I had a thing for for years!” Richie pointed at Eddie and Stan grabbed his hand to wave it in the air. The audience cheered and laughed. “I remember thinking, ‘just bury it, just give it time,’ and then puberty hit me like a goddamn 747 and it only got worse.” Richie paced over to the other side of the stage, chuckling to himself along with the audience’s laughter. “By the way, the whole closet metaphor— ‘coming out of the closet’— there’s a lot that metaphor leaves out. Because you’ve been  _ living _ in a goddamn closet your whole life. All of your  _ shit _ is in there. And actually, I want to come back to what I was saying before about gifts. If I come out to you, consider that a gift, because I didn’t have to tell you jack shit. Everyone who I have the intention of bestowing my gift of coming out to, I cram your fucking gift in there with me in the closet. So it gets  _ cramped _ in there. Some of you are little assholes who run in there and fucking  _ steal _ your present before I’ve worked up the courage to give it to you - Marsh, I’m looking at you - and some of you, I carry your gift with me twenty-four-seven under my shirt, like at any moment if I so much as  _ breathe _ the wrong way, it’s gonna burst out of my chest like the fuckin’ face huggers in Alien.  _ Eds, _ that one was  _ you.” _

Stan leaned across the table towards Eddie and placed a hand on his forearm. “He really has come out of his shell, hasn’t he?”

On the surface, it seemed like such a strange thing to say about someone as loud and seemingly confident as Richie, but Eddie understood the inner workings of Richie’s mind better than most, and apparently Stan did, too. Eddie’s mind flashed back to a memory where he was wearing Richie’s clothes and glasses and Richie’s fists thumped against his chest as he sobbed about how much he hated himself. Eddie then looked up at the stage again, watched his boyfriend gesture wildly as he spoke and use the Voices he’d been perfecting over the years, looking so at home in front of an audience that it made Eddie’s chest flutter with affection.

He nodded at Stan. “Yeah, he really has.”

Beverly and Ben left to drive home as soon as Richie’s show was done, and soon after that, Travis, Katie, Lily and Alex filtered out, leaving the remaining Losers around the large table. Mike later left for his flight back to Florida in the middle of the night since he had to work the next day, and once Patty and Audra disappeared into the bathroom, Eddie felt a strange sense of nostalgia settle over the four young men.

“Thanks for bringing the girls all the way out here just to see me,” Richie was saying to Bill and Stan.

“It wa-wasn’t just for your show, Rich. I wanted her to mmmmeet everyone, too.”

“Yes,” Stan agreed, “I would never drag Patty out here if it were just for you, Richard. Although, she did love the part about Bev figuring out you were into boys before you even did. She and I have had many conversations about the two of you.” Stan gave Richie and Eddie a pointed but fond look and Richie chuckled quietly. 

He sipped at his drink and shifted in his seat so he could lean into Eddie’s side. Eddie let his own head rest against Richie’s, content to be close to him, happy to be surrounded by his oldest friends. The fleeting thought crossed his mind, far from the first nor last time, that these people were his family. Stan started telling a story about a boy he used to like while Richie teased him for joining their gay club and Bill simply laughed along with them. Eddie could feel Beverly’s embrace still lingering on him, hear Ben’s kind words congratulating him on his internship, see Mike’s bright smile when Richie had sat down after his set and kissed Eddie without a care in the world. Eddie glanced down at Richie now, drunk off happiness and the rush of being on stage, giggling at Stan and Bill and rubbing his thumb against Eddie’s knee. It was so easy, now. Being with Richie was easy. It had always been easy. Being himself had grown to become easy, as well. The longer Eddie spent away from Derry and his mother, the more he felt at peace with his life. The more he wanted to experience and try and just  _ do. _ The more he loved Richie and the more he loved himself.

That was all he needed.

Running off to New York had been exactly what he needed to start his life.

* * *

Richie had been trying for weeks to convince Eddie to let him drive back to Derry to take the hammock from the clubhouse to keep in their home as a memento of their childhood and their stupid, young affection for each other. Eddie whined about the idea, of course, because he didn’t want Richie to leave for two days, and blatantly refused to let him drive all the way up and back on the same day, even hid the car keys from him  _ (“Richie, if you think I’m going to let you spend fourteen hours straight driving, you’re even more stupid than I thought”). _ But Richie still couldn’t get the idea out of his mind, so he may or may not have taken slight advantage of his mother’s newfound desire to be in his good books and asked her to drive halfway and meet him in Massachusetts. Instructing her how to locate the clubhouse turned out to be less difficult than convincing Eddie to spend a day rekindling his friendship with Ryan while Richie made the three-hour drive to Springfield to meet with his mother. Maggie refused to let him pay for her overnight accommodation, so they caught up over a late lunch before he headed back with his prized possession.

Richie set up the hammock in the lounge room, replacing the wedge that held up the abstract painting with something a little sturdier that might hold his and Eddie’s combined weight, and sticking the other end to the back of their armchair, which he loaded up with books and other heavy items to keep it from toppling over. He could crawl into the hammock without everything falling apart, but the jury was out on whether or not Eddie could climb in with him.

When Eddie finally returned from his day out, he was holding a bag of groceries, and Richie got to experience the classic  _ I dropped my bag as I entered the house because I was so shocked at what I saw. _

Richie’s hands were resting behind his head, ankles crossed over as he sprawled out in the hammock. “Like somethin’ you see, Eds?”

Eddie blinked and didn’t say a word. His eyes were wide as they scanned Richie’s body, then narrowed with confusion at his dodgy attempt to hold the hammock up. Eddie leaned down to pick up the bag and place it on the kitchen counter, and when he turned back to Richie with his hands on his hips, his expression had morphed into something a little excited and a little disbelieving.

“So, your real reasons for wanting me out all day finally reveal themselves.” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t even want to know how you got this so quickly. You’re insane.”

“But…” Richie gestured down to the spot he’d scooted over to make for Eddie. “You’ll join me anyway?”

Eddie pursed his lips. “You should have just bought a hammock stand or something,” he said, and then he rushed across the room and carefully climbed into the hammock next to Richie. “To say as you always do - you never cease to amaze me. Except with your crazy ideas, not your bravery.”

“Aw, shucks, Eds. You sure know how to sweet talk a guy.”

Eddie adjusted himself, tucking his body into Richie’s side and draping an arm and a leg over his so they could fit comfortably.

“We’re really not the thirteen-year-olds we once were,” Eddie grumbled, but he tucked his face into Richie’s neck and let Richie slip an arm around his shoulders all the same.

“I daresay, Eddie my love, that you have not grown a single inch since the age of thirteen.”

Eddie just let out a long sigh. “Is it too late to get out of this not-quite-engagement?”

Richie chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Actually, speaking of which, I heard some interesting things today. I was chatting with my mom about how incredibly gay I am for you, and it turns out that there actually are a few countries that have recognised gay partnerships.”

“Really?” Eddie made a confused sound and looked up at Richie. “Like where?”

“Oh, in Denmark, I think Sweden, and maybe somewhere else. They’re not  _ marriages, _ per se, but still legal relationships.”

Eddie hummed in response, nuzzling his face against Richie’s neck. He felt him press his lips onto his skin, gently, a barely-there brush of chapped lips against him, but it was enough to send a light shiver through his body. Richie closed his eyes and relaxed into the feeling of Eddie so close in such a way that was strangely nostalgic, considering they’d been sleeping in the same bed for over a year. He sighed happily, still not sure how this had become his life, but finally realising that happiness was something he deserved to have.

Eddie  _ loved _ him.

After so many years spent hating himself for even wanting that, Richie was allowed to enjoy and appreciate that as a part of his life. He wondered if ever would come the time when he did not feel astounded by Eddie’s love for him. He didn’t think so.

“Let’s do it then,” Eddie said. Richie made a confused noise this time until Eddie looked up at him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Richie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me, Rich.”

Richie’s frown deepened but Eddie continued talking.

“Don’t you ever think about moving away from here? You know, once we’re done with college?”

“Why does this conversation seem so familiar?”

Eddie’s lips twitched into a smile. “It’s basically the same thing we said when you first asked me to run away with you,” he explained. “Remember, in the clubhouse?”

How could he forget? The decision to ask Eddie that question changed the course of his life - of both of their lives - and it had been a spur of the moment decision, too. He’d just taken one look at Eddie sitting across from him in the hammock and decided…  _ I want to spend the rest of my life with this fucker. I’d leave behind everything if it meant I could do that. _

“Yeah, I remember. But, what are  _ you _ talking about? Go where?”

Eddie shifted so he could look Richie in the eyes. “To Denmark, or something.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

“Richie,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, “You’re so thick. I’m asking you if you want to run away to Denmark with me in a few years so we can get married. Dipshit.”

Richie blinked again. His heart started thumping in his chest and his insides curled as if his organs were tensing in anticipation of something. “A-Are you serious?”

Eddie’s tongue darted out to swipe across his lips and Richie’s eyes followed the movement. “Yeah, I’m serious. We still have two years left of school, and we can use that time to save up and plan and learn the language, just like we did for New York. Then we can fuck off out of here to somewhere that we can get married when we’re ready. Not straight away, of course, because we’ll still be, like, twenty-three, and I promised I’d kick you out before twenty-five so I need to make sure you’re still a viable husband for me by then.”

“Husband,” Richie breathed. “Holy fuck, dude.”

“Mhm. Mister and Mister Kaspbrak,” Eddie said through a giggle. “Sounds good, doesn’t it? We’d get to be together out in public all the time. We’d get to be ourselves, Rich. We’d be free.”

Richie’s breath rushed out of his lungs. His brows creased together and his lips parted and he couldn’t have stopped himself from smiling if he tried. The smile Eddie returned was so full of warmth and fondness that Richie was sure that his heart was about to burst right out of his chest. He made an embarrassing squeak as Eddie closed the distance between them, kissing him and holding his face between his small hands. Richie’s own hands dragged up Eddie’s body to cradle his face for a moment, and then he pulled back and knocked their foreheads together. As he looked into Eddie’s eyes, Richie realised all at once that his love for Eddie and their relationship was sacred, but not because he couldn’t live without him. It was because living  _ with him _ made Richie’s world that much brighter. Being with Eddie was worth living  _ for. _

Richie breathed in shakily and brushed his thumb over Eddie’s cheekbone. Richie and Eddie. The dream team. This would be their next great adventure.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s do it, Eds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you’re as emotional about this fic being over as I am, you can leave a comment or come talk to me on tumblr. My main is [@bowtiescarves](https://bowtiescarves.tumblr.com) and my wip/shitposting account is [@mathgoatwrites](https://mathgoatwrites.tumblr.com). Thank you again for supporting me and feel free to check out my new wips!
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Jazzy <3


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